Chronicles of the Children of Destiny Volume Thirteen - Judgement Day
by saruviel
Summary: The Ultimate Judgement Day. Saruviel Versus Jesus.


Chronicles of the

Children of Destiny

'Judgement Day'

by

Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly

© 6176sc

Stories

Lucy Smith - The Dark Lords of Evil

The Oraphim Sandalphon - The Heart of Leopold Bradlock

The Ketravim's - Jonathon & Lucinda

Lucy Smith - Choices of the Heart

Lucy Smith – The Children of Haven

Judgement Day

Lucy Smith - The Dark Lords of Evil

Chapter One

She sat by the Cooma creek, down from the pool, in the little park. It was 'Her' place. She had been here a hundred times, literally, in the last few months. A hundred times, or more, searching the soul, searching the heart, searching for the infinite.

She lived, now, next to the pool. The very first house on Mittagong Road, right next to the pool. She had paid a fairly large sum to purchase the place, yet the people happily sold it in the end, and then she had dreams of a lady working with children in a theatre type of setting, and somehow it seemed connected to the house. Funny that. Houses carried memory. A lot like people. Real people. Human people.

She sat in her little park, looking at the traffic as it ocasionally worked its way along Massie street, headed for Cooma North, or the inner east of the town. Perhaps even Cooma East, but there were other ways to get there. Perhaps even right out to the Murumbidgee, or beyond, a road she had not yet dared on her pushbike. Perhaps one day. If she would dare it. The traffic was suitable for a Saturday. Busy, people enjoying the weekend, which Cooma people, in her opinion, particularly did. Lawnmowers. The sound of them, perhaps like nowhere else she had been, she had gotten used to in Cooma in her abode. Afternoons, mornings, the crank of the mower sounded, and happilly trimmed its grass, a constant in the life of Lucy Smith which reminded her what she had chosen life in Cooma for anyway. Normalisation. She looked over at Centennial park and, ironically, the witches faire was again on this year, and, in normal circumstances, it would have been the biggest event possible for the life of Lucy Smith. In normal circumstances. But things, now, had changed. Things were no longer the same. The gay abandon of youth in the pursuit of a 'Magical World' were fairies ruled your heart, and goblins and orcs were the foe, and things like Tax Accountants and Dentists were trivial Muggle concerns had - in reality - gone. Gone, not by lack of power in the heart and ability of Lucy Smith, for if it were some strange genetic code which empowered this witch of renown, those traits had not lapsed and, perhaps even more so than ever, ready to be used to the utmost if necessary. No, they were not gone for lack of ability. Nothing as such. Nothing at all as such. It was the starkest of things which defined so many lives of those who looked back in days gone by of agedness, thinking, what did I do with it all, in the lives of those who, when faced with the endless doing what you have always done to get what you had always got, did that one simple thing which changed things, and often changed things dramatically. It was choice. As cold and stark and basic and as simple as that. She was no longer a witch, not by any contest with the dark lords, or a spell from a hostile competitor, or a romantic and tragic curse of ill repute, but by the most simple and basic decision of all. To obey the rules of the Infinite One upon High - the God of Creation - and forego witchcraft through the act of obedience to his holy Torah. Which, in the end, was simply a decision. A choice. To obey or not to obey. Her own will.

And becuase Lucy Smith was a devoted Noahide, and because Lucy Smith enjoyed reading the Tanakh, and because she liked both of those Daniel's who were involved in the Haven Fellowship for Noahides, and because, in the search for the infinite, in the search for the truth, in the search for love, in the search for glory, in the search for ultimate meaning - in the search to be moral and holy in accordance with what God says - she had foregone witchcraft, and was now, beyond all doubt, apart from the abilities which had not yet left, simply and humbly, a muggle. A non-magic user, who lived an ordinary life, who did ordinary things, who made ordinary choices, and was anything other than extraordinary. That was the stark, basic, simple and true choice, Lucy Smith, daughter of David, cousin of Jonathon, had made.

And she was sticking with it.

Enrique Lopes looked at the old car. It would do. So much for his faithful dragon.

When he got home he showed it off to Lucy.

'You call that a car?' she asked him.

'What's wrong with it?' he asked her, looking defensively at the old Holden.

'Its a wreck,' she said. 'I wouldn't put my grandmother in that old thing.'

'Who's your grandmother?'

She considered the point. 'Well, I don't precisely know, Enrique Lopes. But if I knew who my grandmother was, I certainly wouldn't be putting her in that beast. The rust is enough to sink the Titanic - again.'

'I think I can grind it down,' he said. 'And repaint it. I like the car.'

She thought on her wealth, but remembered one of their cardinal rules together. Normality.

'Ok,' she said. 'It will do.'

'Good. I'll get to work on it right now. I have most of the tools I need in the shed. I'll paint it later on today.'

'Do as you will,' she said.

For the rest of the afternoon a grinding sound came from the carport as he filed away the rust, and when she looked at it when he had come in for a drink, it seemed in a bit better shape. Later, when he had painted it, which took a while, she looked it over when it had dried. Actually, it seemed alright now. A decent looking car. Wonders what a paint job could do.

'And beats riding a broomstick,' said Enrique. She punched him in the arm for that comment.

Daniel Daly - the angel Callodyn - came around that night. He had been invited over for dinner. There was the other member of Haven from Canberra with him, Aaron Goodsell. Daniel Rothchild was away. Daniel had been the one to get her questioning her witchcraft. He and Mandy had been together for a while, and he had been soft on them to start with, but eventually left Mandy because he didn't agree with messing around with the powers of the Dark Magic. And Mandy, while she was a White Witch, had questionable ethics at times. But she was schizo-effective or schizophrenic or something, and it was not always the heart of Mandy leading her to do what she was doing. But Daniel didn't really have the patience to endure that. And, in the end, he let Lucy Smith know that witchcraft, in whatever form it took, was not what he wanted to involve himself in in life. There was a dark power, and that power gave out of itself not for the purposes of goodness, ultimately. And while white witchcraft came from within, the knowledge of good and evil were ever inextricably linked, and sometimes, even the best of hearts, strayed. Even the best of them.

'Witchcraft, Lucy, is no big deal. Not to me. Most witches, as I have told you a number of times, simply do what they do for their own thrills and reasons, for they love the spell casting, but it is not for a regular person who loves God's bible in the way I love it. It is about proper human beingness. Proper human living. That is how I understand Karaite Noahide faith.'

'We have liberties available to us, Daniel,' said Shelandragh. 'I have started looking more into this faith. This section you quote, genesis 1 to 11:9. It doesn't, really, in the end say much on witchcraft.'

'You remember the Deueteronomy passage and its comment on the nations?' responded Daniel.

'It doesn't come accross as law upon the nations. As specific commands. No matter what you claim.'

Aaron spoke up. 'No, Shelandragh. It doesn't. God is not doing that. He wants to be subtle about it but, if you really want to get things right with him, you are supposed to get the point. He judges Israel and says don't do what the heathens do on these issues. He doesn't specifically judge the gentiles, but he tells his own not to practice those things. It is subtle. It is not commandments upon us. He has his own special community, but if you are non-jewish and want to connect a bit more closely to him, he asks you this much. Get the point. Argue, if you want to. He doesn't care. Its your life. He will still love you somewhat anyway. But, if you want his will. IF you CHOOSE his ways, becausde you WANT to. If then. Well, magic, for a Noahide, is one of the first things we are supposed to consider letting go of if we have it in our life.'

'Oh,' said Lucy. 'I see. I see what you mean. He isn't insisting. It's up to us.'

'I think he wants us to get the point,' said Daniel, 'but, yes. He is not being so Overlording that he will make absolute commands towards yourself. His son, Israel, cops that. The worldly flock of Noah, well. Well we cop it if we choose to. And me and Aaron pretty much choose to. Ok.'

Shelandragh conceded the point. The interpretation had been expressed. The obligation was her own, if she chose to act upon it. It was her choice. And, for Lucy sitting there, it was clearer now also.

And she loved God.'

And she wanted to please him.

And she liked holiness concepts.

And while she really, really, really liked being a witch.

She wanted to obey the creator, even more than that.

'You and Daniel Rothchild. Your brothers. I can tell. You look practically identical.'

'A freak of nature,' responded Daniel Daly. 'But, one of the things I sometimes think I see in nature, is in how people with the same name often at times have similar features. As if there is an archtype representative of our names, perhaps the first bearer, or the most famous one, and when the kid comes out the suitable name is chosen. By no means infallibly so, but sometimes I reckon there is a higher power at work.'

'Interesting,' said Lucy. 'But I don't think so. You and him. Your brothers. Your mother must have played around.'

'Mary Daly is the last kind of lady who would play around,' responded Daniel laughing. 'She is a strict old Catholic nun, in reality. She wouldn't do that kind of thing.'

'How much older is Daniel than you? Or Matthew?'

'Uh, can't remember exactly. Just a few years older than Matt I think.'

'So maybe it is possible,' said Lucy.

'Or, more likely, that there is a Baker or a Daly somewhere back in the family tree of the Rothchild clan. That is probably all it is. Just a freak of nature. Of genetics. These things happen all the time, Lucy. Ok Don't get your knickers in a knot.'

'Mmmm,' she said, but she wasn't convinced.

That afternoon Daniel was looking at a picture of Daniel Rothchild. Really, they were brothers. In the most important way. Building Haven Noahide Fellowship and Haven Outreach, which young David, Daniel Rothchild's younger brother, valued greatly. But that was just like David. To care for the disaffected in society. To show them love. To show them concern. To show them the grace of God. To give a damn.

The Rothchild's were now an important part of Daniel's life. Alexander, David and Daniel's father, was also a good friend of Daniel's, and his words of wisdom often shaped Daniel's views on life, especially his devotion to God, which was intense. And, it was strange. It was like he had known him before. And Daniel and David as well. Like, in another life, they had been the best of friends, and they had all lived a similar destiny before. Untrue, of course. This was life - their first time around - it could never really have been any other way. Could it?

He smiled at the picture of Daniel holding a fish he had caught in Tathra. He was a competitive soul, Daniel Rothchild, and while his sarcasm was strong, somewhat like his own funnily enough, there was a strong caring heart in him which he admired. And saw much in him that he valued himself.

Yes, they were brothers. If not in name, then definitely in spirit. Definitely in spirit.

'

He sat down at the table, Lucy in the other room, preparing the nightly meal. She had invited him to stay for a while, just to chat. Just to talk. He put the picture back into his satchel, back in the little pocketbook of photographs he carried around with him, and picked up the glass of wine. He sipped on it. It was semi sweet, and red. Almost perfect to his preferred taste, a taste he was still looking for. Perhaps he would end up having to grow his own grapes and make his own wine to eventually get the perfect taste. Or bother to get around to trying them all. Lucy came in the room, as he sipped the final drop and sat down opposite him on the old, familiar table. It was one his family had had for generations, but when his mother had passed it had come to him. He had given it to Lucy as a recent birthday present, and it was like an old friend, familiar. Part of him in many ways, a spark from his childhood.

'Your looking at the table,' she said.

'Oh. Yeh. Just thinking. Old memories. Old, deep, memories.'

'You can have it back if you want to,' said the girl anxioiusly.

'No. No, its ok. You can make memories with it as well.' She smiled, comforted by that.

'Daniel.'

'Yes, Lucy.'

'What was your childhood like? Here in Cooma?'

Daniel sighed. 'That was a long time ago, now. We're old, you know. Longer lived than most people.'

'Like Shelandragh,' said Lucy. 'She claims to be ancient.'

'She possibly is,' responded Daniel. 'But at 154 I really am starting to feel it as well. The length of days. They say, all the time, genetic wonders about those of us who keep on going. Hardly aging. Living so long. A good 1 to 2 percent of the world population, living extremely long lives. Many say good diets, are good attitudes on life, or lots of other things. So much speculation on us.'

'And I can still have children,' she said, smiling. 'Replenishment. This is the third time as well.'

'But you haven't had any yet,' he commented, looking at her seriously.

'Not yet. Oh, Enrique has often hinted that one day. One day, when he has ridden his dragon for the final time, we will finally settle down. But, before, when I passed 45 and the last of my bloodings came and went, he said he would love me forever anyway. And when it started happening for the second time we got serious for a while. But it was only a few years and they were gone again. But now - its been 17, and the doctor says I have about 25 more years worth of them.'

'You had it checked?' he asked her.

'Yes,' she replied. 'I had to. This time, I think. For sure. I don't want to risk it again. Even if we don't really appear to be aging much.'

'Oh. I'm getting older,' he responded. 'I feel it. In the mornings, the creaking bones. Even if I don't look it.'

'That is just life. We are ready, normally, for the grave at our ages. Heck, well before our ages I suppose. Its a strange long life. So strange.'

He nodded, and reached for the wine bottle and poured himself another glass. 'Join me?' he asked her.

She nodded, and he poured her a glass.

Lucy stood and put on a Mozart piano concerto CD on the player, and as Elvira Madigan played in the background, the two of them sat there, in silence, reflecting. On long years, of years of happiness and joy, and a seemingly endless future before them, still full of mystery, still full of wonder, still full of life.

The following morning Enrique was gone in the car, off on some adventure or another, and Daniel sat in the back room, watching the scenery towards Crisp Street, lost in memories. Cooma was such an entrenched part of his heart. So much of his life lived her and in this region.

Lucy Came in again. Well,' she said.'

'Well what?'

'Your youth? Your younger years? Here in Cooma? What were they like?'

Daniel smiled. 'I was not the holiest boy in youth, you know. Not exactly. I was Catholic, like the whole family, but at 16 I ventured into my own faith in nothing really at all. Just didn't care. Didn't really believe in God. Didn't really disbelieve. Just had no time for church. There were friends back there, and I remember the old pinball arcade, were I played games like Gauntlet 2 and Space Ace and Hyper Olympics and others. They were good times. Fun times. Full of life and vitality. We were bad boys, in a way, but never mean boys. Pinching things from shops, and playing cricket. We even won an indoor cricket b grade competition in my final year in Cooma before the family moved to Canberra. I got a trophy, but that is long gone.'

'Were there any. You know. Girlfriends.'

He looked up at her. 'Oh. Yes, you might want to know about such things. Well, sort of. Louise. There was Louise. But I liked Jenny Cheetham. The first girl I really loved. She was English, like me, smart and pretty. She was a pentecostal, and I met her again later on in life.'

'You never married,' said Lucy.

'No. Not yet. Haven't found the right girl yet. Karaite Noahide faith hasn't done anything, yet. Apart from me and Aaron. And you, I guess. You say that Karaite Noahidism is, in the end, were it is for you.'

'Yes. Yes, I'm a Noahide. Not the 7 laws. I agree with you on the problems with the Talmud. Really, mainly just a Noahide rather than specifically a Karaite one, but, yes, I do honour the scriptures, and I don't follow the 7 laws. Its were I fit in in the end. But just me. Just Lucy. Just Noah's covenant. Its what makes me me.'

'Right,' he said nodding. 'I get that from some people. Just being themselves. Just being who you are. But for me the Tanakh is the main book, as well as the Haven literature. And while I hated religion once, it is what grabs me. It is what propels me. It is the information - the knowledge - which I thrive on.'

'Yes. Yes, that is what you are like,' she said, smiling.

'And do you like what you see?' he asked softly.

'I wouldn't have you any other way, Daniel Daly.' And he smiled at that.

'And what about your youth, Lucy Smith.'

'You know most of it.'

'You travelled, though. Before coming to Chakola.'

'That was so long ago. I can't even remember were, really.' But that wasn't completely true. She did remember snippets, but nothing firm. She was so young. But there was glimpse from very young, back in England. A glimpse. Of' a room, with a photograph on the wall. A photograph of her father David. She'd seen others her mother had shown her of him, but David was gone to the family now. Gone forever. Lost to the power of Zoldarius. Gone before she had ever really known her father.

She thought on her father, and suddenly started sobbing. 'Oh, excuse me,' she said, and sat there, in her house on Mittagong road, sobbing into a hankie, thinking of the father she had never really known, with Daniel sitting opposite her, trying to look comforting, but nothing could comfort a hole in her heart that had never, ever, really been filled. Nothing.

After a while she sobered up, stopped crying, and looked at Daniel. 'Sorry.'

'What was the problem?'

'Daddy,' she said softly.

'You never met him.'

'No. That, that, man. Zoldarius. He took my father.'

'And you hate him, right.'

She nodded. Then thought better of it. 'No. No, I don't really hate Zoldarius. He is just - evil. It's just the way he is. The way he chooses to be. I am not sure if he can really help the way he is. Now.'

'We all make choices, Lucy Smith. Even Zoldarius made choices once, I suppose. From all that I have heard of him.'

'Then your right. I hate him,' she said bitterly, standing and going into the kitchen. Daniel followed her in.

He looked at her with mercy, and thought on something he felt he wanted to say. 'All the hating in the world won't bring David back.'

'No,' she said. 'It might make me feel better,' she said, slicing at a tomato to make a cheese and tomato sandwich.

'It probably won't. Evil takes the life of the possessor in the end. The scripture teaches us not to bear grudges. No matter how evil the person has been. We are certainly sure to administer justice, and taking the life of a wicked man is often condoned by Torah. And Zoldarius is no exception to that. But, in his eternal destiny, even Zoldarius's, there may, at some point, come that silliest of things. That silliest of things which makes him human in the end, as well.'

'And what is that?' she asked defiantly.

'Love,' he said simply.

'I don't think he is capable of it,' she said, feeling as if some sort of blasphemy had been spoken.

'He had a mother, right.'

She nodded.

'Don't you think there was a time, when he was young, that he loved his mother. His father. That he cared. That he had - a soul.'

'I don't want to talk about it,' she responded.

'Ok,' he said, and left the room.

But she sat there, making her snack, and as she poured out her orange juice, she called Daniel in for their little meal and looked at him.

'But how could he choose to be so evil? If love could ever permeat that heart, how could he ever choose such wickedness as he has done.'

'Lust. Lust for power. Lust for wealth. Lust for fame. Lust for his own glory. He has made choices, and doesn't care to go back on them.

She nodded. That sounded right.

'But why should I ever care about a cretin like Zoldarius?'

'I'm not asking you to. But grudges, in the end, hurt us more than the ones we hold the grudge against. Pity him. Just pity him, lost in his wickedness. And one day you won't hate him. You'll just understand he is a defiant soul, who has made his own choices, and is lost in a world of evil. And that, like all of us, he needs redemption.'

'I could wish him in hell,' she said.

'So could I, Lucy Smith. So could I.'

'You can't say he doesn't deserve it.'

'I wouldn't,' he responded softly.

'Good,' she finished.

Yet, that afternoon, a part of her understood that so many souls really didn't care that much in the end, and even chose darkness as a way of life. So many souls who hadn't worked it all out, or just had been hurt. Hurt, and didn't care anymore. Just didn't give a damn. And chose evil because of it. And, in seeing that Zoldarius might just be one of these lost souls, who the heart of love had yet to touch, she did have pity. She had pity and she forgave him from her heart. For bearing a grudge would only make her miserable, and life was too good to afford that.

Satan sailed on the sea of ecstasy, high on Hype, Fuck and Wank, his three favourite new wave drugs of choice, practically overloaded on them. But it took a lot to get Satan stoned - he was the Devil after all. Hallucinations of Sodomisic demons floated in front of him, tempting even the Devil, yet he said 'Go to hell faggots,' but, for a moment, almost tempted by their absolute uncaring behaviour. But he was a bad boy. And bad boys fucked hot chicks. Even the Devil had scruples. 'Well, if you are not going to join us, at least kill that Lucy Smith bitch.' And the Devil grinned sadistically. That much he could do.

He floated away all afternoon on his sea of ecstacy and, when the high started wearing off, tempted to reload, he thought better of it and wandered out to the main hall. Zoldarius was there, sitting on his throne, lost in his pathetic thoughts. Minor thoughts of power. Not the real thing.

Zoldarius stood. 'Yes, Lord Bradlock.'

'The Lucy Smith agenda. It is soon time to respond to her - once and for all.'

'Yes, my master,' said Zoldarius. 'What is your bidding.'

'Voices have spoken to me. The girl is soon to fall pregnant. A child - a kidnapped child - would be an excellent bargaining chip for us to win our agenda. The Dark One's agenda.'

'But are you not the Dark One?' queried Zoldarius confused.

'There is an even darker spirit,' said Satan. 'The heart of the Dark Magic. And its will is sovereign.'

'As you say,' said Zoldarius.

'We will wait for now. Yet, when she falls pregnant, watch. Assign that Grimlock fool, and at the right time, we will strike.'

'It is my pleasure to serve you, dark master.'

'Remember that,' said Bradlock, and disappeared back to his abode, ready to get high once again, and fight off some more of those alluring sodomistic temptations.

'Let's go to Lambie Gorge,' said Daniel. 'Its not too far a walk from here.'

'Where's Lambie Gorge?' asked Lucy Smith innocently.

'You've never been?' he asked surprised.

'Never even heard of it,' she responded.

'Hum. Funny,' he said. 'But why would you. Unless you had ever actually been shown the place. Some people might not normally think about looking there.'

'Where is it?' she asked.

'Down behind the showground. Behind the horse stables.'

'Oh. Right. Well, I've been there heaps. To the showground. That is where the nursing home is, behind the stables. I've been there once or twice.'

'Its behind that,' he said. 'Its part of the town walk.'

'Ok,' she said. 'I'll put some track pants on. We'll go shortly.'

Enrique had still not returned and, while Lucy Smith missed him, she still wanted to continue on with her latest fervour - normalisation of her life. Doing the things normal or regular people did. And a bush walk sounded ideal.

'We'll go at midday, if that is alright,' said Daniel. 'I fancy a Yummy Burger from the cafe. Still haven't changed the recipe. After all these years.'

'You do like those yummy burgers,' said Lucy smiling.

'Isn't that obvious,' said Daniel, patting his belly, which was just a little tiny bit overweight. Lucy laughed at that.

When she had changed they played Uno for about an hour, a card game favourite of Daniel's which they had been playing together for the last few days. It filled in time, and with a classical CD on in the background she was happy, in a way. Almost as if living a childhood she had not gotten to live, so caught up in the ways of magic and mystery. So caught up in the ways of fairey and fantasy.

When 11:30 ticked over Daniel said he was hungry enough anyway, so they locked the front door, Daniel armed with his carrybag he took everywhere, and Lucy, in her pink tshirt and trendy trackies, fancy sneakers on, which she had rarely worn, and they took off for the centre of town were Daniel got his Yummy burgers.

As they walked down past the pool and crossed into Centennial park, Lucy reminded herself again, normal life now. 'Well, I have never eaten a Yummy burger, but I'll give it a go.'

'Ooh,' said Daniel. 'Are you sure the amazing Lucy Smith can afford the weight gain?'

She smiled. A typical wisecrack from Mr Daly.

'Yes. I am not watching my weight. I never have been.'

'That's not what Madalene says.'

'Oh, shutup,' said Lucy.

'I mean, face it,' said Daniel. 'Women are vain. They are well known for it.'

'Witches are not vain.'

'But your not a witch,' said Daniel. 'Are you?'

She looked at him. Didn't really know what to say, so said nothing.

As he started hooking into his Yummy burger, she looked at her own. Indeed, it did look yummy. She was normally a 'Salad' girl, and rarely ate meat these days, but it didn't have any meat in it anyway.

She bit into it. 'Ooh, yum,' she said instantly.

'Exactly,' responded Daniel.

They ate contentedly, the traffic on Sharp street going about its typical busines, another normal day in another normal country town.

When they got to the showground and down to the stables, Lucy was somewhat excited. It would be interesting to see what this Lambie gorge actually was.

'We'll go to the lookout first,' said Daniel. 'And then we may as well go down to the water.'

'Ok,' said Lucy.

They continued on, past the nursing home, and the trail went up to a climb. She noticed a tributary of Cooma Creek was winding along beside the trail, and as they climbed up the ridge, steadily working upwards over rocks and outcroppings, they came to the lookout and looked down into the gorge. It was typical Cooma countryside, but she was surprised to see the gorge with the creek, like a little country river.

'Its a great view,' she said.

'Lets go down,' said Daniel.

They climbed down, into the gorge, down rocks and, getting to the water, Lucy looked at it.

'Can we drink it?'

'Oh, you probably could, I guess. It is running at the moment. Its probably fresh enough. Watch out for stagnant pools, though.'

'No, I won't drink any. Just curious.'

They sat there, Daniel having dunked his feet into the water after their walk, and Lucy got out some oranges.

'Want one?' she asked him.

'Thanks,' he responded.

They sat there, in silence, the sun beating down on them, enjoying the country like atmosphere so close to town.

'I would never have known this was here,' she said.

'Few do. Even those who have lived in Cooma for a long time don't often know about it. Sort of hidden away, behind the nursing home. I mean, you might never know about it unless someone showed it to you.'

'When did you first come here?' she asked him.

Daniel looked at the water, lost in thought. It was so long ago now, as a little kid, him and his adventures, especially with his brother Greg.

'I think a neighbour first showed us the place. But we came as kids. As you could imagine, I trawled all over Cooma in my youth. Yabbying in Cooma creek near the pool, riding bikes, getting into trouble. I have been all over this town. Its part of me. In so many ways right at the centre of my heart. Like Berridale, still.'

'And Canberra?' she asked him.

'Almost. It takes a lot to conquer that city. You have to get to know a lot of people and live there a long time.'

'I could imagine,' she responded.

He ate more of his orange. 'I remember, coming with Peter and Greg and Fabio, possibly. Misty, the dog, came along with us. We found old things lying about, just over there,' he said pointing. 'Once, coming back home from the place, Greg had a little accident and I had to be a doctor. It was nothing major, but it always stuck in my memory. I thought I was made out to be a doctor, possibly.'

'What are you made out for Daniel? I mean, what exactly do you do?'

He smiled. 'Not much, really Lucy. I write books. They don't really sell much, but are getting popular online. I am still on a Disability Suport Pension from the Government for my Schizophrenia. Have been for years. And I now have a few shares in my portfolio. I'm building that investment slowly.'

'Right,' she said.

'Oh, I get by with what I earn. Its ok.'

'You seem to have a lot of valuable things. Old things, I've noticed.'

'I collect a lot of stuff. Have done since my younger years. Comics especially.'

'I've noticed,' she said.

'Yep. Well, when I reached 60 I had a lot of money from superannuation. I had worked for a bit in my 20s, plus I made personal contributions. I bought a place, not far from here, actually, up in Cooma North. I guess I have never really mentioned that to you. It is where I keep my most prized possessions.'

'You own a home in Cooma?' she asked, surprised.

'Yeh. I stay there occasionally. But normally I am at my place in Mawson. A friend of mine from younger years. Marcus. When he died he left it to me in my will. We had lived together as friends for quite a while. Nothing gay or anything like that, even though sometimes I wondered about Marcus. No, we were just good and close firends, and had similar values and understandings on life. He was a great companion for a while. A good house mate, and very generous. He never had any kids and reamined a virgin till he died, and didn't really have anybody else close to leave the place to, so left it to me.'

'That was lucky,' she said.

'Very,' he responded. 'Plus I had money from mum when 29 Merriman sold. When mum died. I invested that well, also.'

'So you get by,' she said.

'I get by,' he responded.

They sat there for a while, and Lucy offered him some strawberries as well. He was deep thinker, quite obviously, was Daniel. But he was old, like Lucy. So old, now, yet so young as well. In many ways much of the trappings of older age had eluded her, because of her physical youth. Perhaps it was psychology, or even simply physical laws of nature, but she still had a lifestyle and mannerism more akin to the 30 year old she looked like. Daniel looked a bit older, but not that much. Ageless, as they had discussed. But, no, she noticed it each decade. Even a few grey hairs in the last 30 years. She was aging, albeit slowly, but definitely aging. One day she would meet the grave, presumably like her mentor, Shelandragh, who was so much older than both of them. She wondered if she would live to 1000. A full millennium. What a milestone. It would be weird, in many ways, living so long. All those memories, your latter years, it seemed, all lost in thought. Thinking back. Remembering. It was even like that now, somewhat, although her years had been full of excitement and adventure, with rarely an opportunity to reflect. But there were times, especially in this growing Cooma dynasty, were she sat in her house, especially in the back room, looking out towards Nijong Oval direction, often looking at the setting sun, just sitting there, a Mozart CD playing, relaxing. Reflecting. Wondering - what to do with her life. What to do with her soul.

Witchcraft had been central for so long, caught up in adventures with Shelandragh May, always, it seemed, fighting that bloody Grimlock and Lucifer and those other dark lords of evil. And Zoldarius. Her cousin Jonathon's long term nemesis. He never, really, left her alone for long either. Even though it had been a while now. And that Damien Bradlock. Him she hated, even though she didn't like to hate anyone. But he was so dark, in some ways making Zoldarius look tame. Him she could really do without. But, it seemed, destiny had chosen her - a special child of destiny, perhaps - and the dark lords of evil, for now, were part of that. Perhaps, some day, some fateful event would happen, some fateful choice, and they would leave her alone then. Satisfied in all their mean cruelty. Satisfied that they had done enough harm. And then she could live a normal life. A happy life. Living with Enrique, hopefully, God willing, having family. Having all the things so many others, witch and muggle, took for granted. But, it seemed, not yet. Not quite yet. There was a sense of foreboding, especially in her dreams, that a day of reckoning was soon approaching. A day in which penultimate dark encounters would take place and the life of Lucy Smith would reach a pinnacle, and then? Then a more calming and soothing existence would finally be her reward. But not yet. Not for now. For now the dark lords of evil still had an interest in her and Alexander Darvanius himself, one she really worried about in his growing fame and power, would also, likewise have his day of reckoning with Lucy Smith. Perhaps, in his own way, the darkest of the lords of evil. Perhaps, in his own way, the one to be feared most of all in the end. Perhaps.

She bit into her apple, noticed that Daniel had lied down and was snoozing in the afternoon sun so, finding a place to likewise lie down, she finished her apple, drank a little juice, and put on her iPod, mellowing out to old Evanescence songs, drifting away in the warm summer afternoon, happy, content and at peace with life for the most part. And, perhaps, just that little bit more normal. Just that little bit.

She was again at the little park, just betwen the pool and Centennial Park, Daniel had gone up to his house in Cooma North,and Enrique was still away. She didn't have her iPod with her today, instead she was down here to contemplate her situation again. In so many ways witches and wizards lived similar experiences to muggles, but it was still a different world as well. But Lucy had always known Madalene and her family, and she had lived in the real world and the world of magic, a dichotomy of competing ideologies, for so long that she was both of them in so many ways - witch and muggle. But now, with the last number of years in Canberra, talking with Daniel and Aaron, the children of Haven as they called themselves, learning about Noahide ways more so, finally connecting with what she had committed to in days of youth at Chakola, finally seeking out her faith and questioning her witchcraft, it was indeed the witchcraft which was questioned, and the muggle world which was ruling her heart. But could she ever deny the strange powers within her? Could she ever deny her father, or her cousin, or the power in the Smith name? Could she?

But she had. What was she saying. She had. Hadn't she?

She knew the passages in the Torah about witchcraft well now, looking at them more so in recent years, and sometimes she wondered what the witches of old really believed in about how it all came to be? So many answers in so many questions. Shamans and witch doctors and buddhist priests and scientists all said so many things about how it all came to be, and in so many of the cultures she had learned about there were ancient creation stories, all of strange origins, as much a flight of fantasy as a secular scientist might propose, but for the one from the Canaanite culture, were the bull god Elohim surfaced in the faith of the Hebrews as the supreme creator power of the universe, it became so much more than just legend with so many. It became fact. And if the witches knew this power, as it grew, why had they never really acknoweldged it? Why had they continued on in their witchcraft, if it was so wrong, if they had no other real answer to the power of life apart from magic itself? For that religion, the one she adhered to, the one so much of the muggle world revolved around, hated witches. Why? Why? What problem did God have with his devoted daughter Lucy Smith?

And then, in recent years, Shelandragh had been speaking to her about the source of magic, and the spiritual powers. And while she was an animistic witch, and the power mostly came from within, the world of witches used, often, powers from a different source. A - darker - source. The dark magic, as Shelandragh called it. The dark power of the dark lords. The sovereign will of evil itself.

But this was not the power of Lucy Smith, and she believed, in her heart, that what lay within her, her own spiritual magic, was good magic. White magic. She had never used it for evil. Never.

And was this white magic ok with God? Did God actually give her this gift? Was this a power from him? Like the gifts of the Holy Spirit for Christians, was this a good thing? Was it, as the lightworkers maintained, a source of goodness and healing in the world? Or was it the devil, robed in garments of light, speaking false words of goodness and love, a hidden power which had claimed her ancestors, the first of the Smiths to succumb, and had made arrangements for the powers he offered, camoflagued in goodness, yet with a horrible and hidden contract, a contract in which her very own soul might be claimed one day. These were her fears. That Smiths and other families in the craft were victims, sold to the dark powers in ancient agreements, and the magic they loved so much had cost them their very salvation. Lucy would not allow that. Lucy would never allow that.

She thought on the Hover spell, and how it controlled atoms, somehow affecting gravity around the item, so Shelandragh told her. And that how the formation of the spells, their intricate components, was done in the spirit world, were other powers worked and granted the spellcaster their will, and that some were chosen and the lucky ones to inherit these powers, more special than the mere muggle who was nothing to be considered to some. Nothing. And even Lucy had suffered from some of that pride, a halfblood, never really considered a proper witch by some of the elite in the magical community, never really considered one of them. And, in the end, perhaps they were right. Perhaps she just wasn't one of them. Perhaps she was Carolines daughter, and not David's, really. Perhaps she was a muggle in the end, even chosen for this strange salvation which Torah spoke of, learning the rules of God, and living a holy life. Perhaps, in the end, that was the better choice anyway. The sensible choice. The holy choice. Her choice.

She sighed. It had been a whle now, a decade or so, since her last spell. Since the time she put down her old copy of the JPS Tanakh, down into the bottom of her bookcase, and got down on her knees and prayed to God and said she would not practice it any more, and that, if he would, that he would forgive her. And that had been a decade ago, and the normality she was seeking had become the new issue for her life focus, and that witchcraft, as she promised God, was gone forever. No more to be practiced. She felt, perhaps, that she was in better moods these days, and a little happier in life. Perhaps. But not that much had changed. Just normal life. And, because of that, she questioned wether it had really been that big a deal anyway, and that maybe she was over-reacting, and that her white witchcraft was holy witchcraft and that, really, God didn't mind. Did he? No he didn't. Did he? Or, did he actually mind? Did he actually want her to choose her new life, to choose her new world of normal, to choose him? Did he?

Yet, whatever witchcraft was, whatever the source of its power, whatever its origin, even wether there was good magic and bad magic, no longer did it matter. No longer. The choice for Lucy Smith was, in the end, a choice of the heart. A choice to cleave to a power greater than even that of magic itself. The power which, she guessed, even created the magic for whatever purposes he had. And that power was that of Yahweh, God Most High, maker of Heaven and Earth. Yahweh's spiritual power was, in the faith she had been born into, Almighty. His name El Shaddai suggested that truth. It was a power greater than that of other powers on earth or heaven. Greater than all the gods of the ancient world, which Yah counted as nothing. Nothing but mere idols. Greater than electricity, or fire, or plasma, or gravity or nuclear power or anything really. And, most importantly, and most fundamentally of all divine truths - greater than the power of magic. Magic couldn't save her, in the end. There was no great bible on the salvation of the soul in the tomes of witchcraft which Torah offered. No great point to life, rather than to use magic to advance ones own life and ones own concerns. No, it was not the same. Never the same.

She chose God and Karaism, she guessed, because it was not a trivial thing for personal advancement, but a whole way of life, a whole halakah of the soul, which taught her moral and decent rules for getting along in the world with everyone, for respecting the life of neighbour, for respecting their property, for respecting their spouse, and, more importantly, for respecting and honouring God himself. It was holiness - the divine calling - which gave an answer to her hearts search for truth, the higher principles, higher than a witches code of honour, higher than an eastern mantra, higher than a new age gurus chit chat about past lives. It was the highest truth to the mind of Lucy Smith, the decency and concern of heart to be a proper, true and moral person. And in that truth the convenience of spellcasting to get ahead was sacrificed on the altar of genuine works, genuine faith, genuine love.

It was sacrificed on the altar of the natural world. The natural law.

Oh, witchcraft had those things too, in its own way, things of morality, things of decency, and love was not the divine stranglehold of one religion - it was universal. It always had been. No, iIt was not devoid of morality, and a white witch always chose good over evil. But the bible was the source which defined those very truths. The bible was the ultimate book which taught you to reject the knowledge of evil and choose the knowledge of good only. And in the faith of Karaism the morality of choosing what, in the end, were shortcuts on the natural life of creation, shortcuts on living the regular way God had made his humans to function, which appealed to the growing and expanding moral heart of Lucy Smith - the morality of choosing shortcuts in life which magic offered every day with every spell and ever incantaion - were replaced by that Karaism which didn't, in the end, putting it bluntly, cheat.

The natural world was the design of Yah. It followed natural rules and functioned in a natural way. And the sign of her covenant with God was the rainbow - a remarkably beautiful, but totally natural sign. In all the ways of nature, the sheep following in a line, bees buzzing after honey, the spider spinning its web, the rain falling at its natural time, the sun shining according to its natural rules, the waves flowing in order from the moon - all these things which made her world work the way it worked - all of them happened in a natural way. According to the physical laws and rules designed by God Almighty for earth to function upon. And witchcraft, the whole purpose of which was to obviate the natural order and find shortcuts to advance oneself - well - well for Lucy Smith, in the higher sense of morality she had always aspired to, such shortcuts, in her good conscience, could no longer be taken. Such shorcuts, for the mind and heart of Lucy Smith, in the end, no matter what source the spiritual powers of magic came from, wether good or evil, such shortcuts were cheating on the regular life. And Lucy Smith wouldn't do that any more. Lucy Smith would be holy. Whatever else she would be holy.

She thought on Bewitched and Darren. Always saying to Samantha to do things the proper way. To not use witchcraft. To get along with the world, and not upset that nosey neighbour, and be a regular family. And she thought on Samantha, who listened to Darren, but still did witchcraft anyway. Lucy had her Enrique, but he never minded. In fact, she really couldn't think of anyone who did mind. Of anyone who was bothered by her practicing witchcraft. It was like that, now, in the world. People didn't mind so much anymore. The real power of the church age had waned a while ago, two or three centuries ago, and in the 20th century a more secular world emerged, fuelled by the vision of science, fueled by a more rationale approach to religion. A more humanistic viewpoint. And, because of that, serious respect, serious intellectual respect diminished, and the slur term 'Fundie' got used to keep the extremists embarassed,not objecting, in their place. Oh, right wing conservatism responded at times, she remembered their power, but the freedoms which had been bought with the dismissiveness of religion actually impelled freedom of religion itself, amongst all the other liberalities it had gained. And with that freedom old fashioned witchcraft had resurfaced, with a new vigour, a new strength, unleashed from the power of the Church to keep it in check like it had long done.

Really, she should have been offended. She should have been gravely offended at this biblical God, this Yahweh, and his presumptiveness to think he could tell her what she could and could not do. She should have been offended. Witchcraft was her right, wasn't it? She was free, wasn't she? But as much as she might wanted to have been, there was also a fateful yearning towards the very power which condemned her practices, a yearning for a strength which, so it claimed, knew better. A strength, so it claimed, which knew more.

It was like that. People often needed someone to look up to. To have an example for them. And God was a frighteningly awesome power to look up to. Someone who held her life and death - her very salvation - in the palms of his eternal hands.

In the end it was simply just that. A father figure. She needed a father figure, which had long been absent from her life. Someone to watch over her, to teach her right from wrong, to guide her on the way, to be the strengh in her weakness, and the protector of her soul. And because David had never really been there, she had turned to the one sovereign father over all creation, and found her happiness in pleasing him.

What else could she really do now anyway?

She straightened up, cleaned the grass off the bottom of her skirt, and started the short trek up the hill, back home. But she reached the pool gate doors, looked at them and, thinking she may as well relax the rest of the day, walked in, paid the admittance fee, and changed into her swimming bikini and went to the big pool, which was empty on this fine summer day, all the Cooma kids still at school, and just past lunch time when some regulars came. She had it all to herself.

She floated, on her back, in the water, looking up at the clouds. Then she closed her eyes. Her ears were under water and the calm silence made her feel like she was in a world of her own, her own private liitle universe. Perhaps, in the end, that might be what she needed anyway. For in as much as the elite heart of the community of magic often mocked the halfblood, the elite heart of the muggle world could hardly be said to be any better. For a priest or an Imam or a rabbi, who ruled that world, might also be all to eager to shun her, to ridicule her, to cast her aside as a witch, a spiritual fornicator, something no respectable person should be known with. She'd had that occasionally, throughout life. Rejection for what she was. Not often, mind you, but it was there. A sarcastic comment. A nasty word. An unfriendly look. Even in this day and age were respect was taught strongly, there were still people who looked down on her kind. And, in the elite power of this world, could there really be a place for a girl who might have ambitions one day, ambitions for great things, ambitions for glory? She suspected, just the way a halfblood could be despised in her own magical world, so in the world of a muggle she too could suffer the same taunts. The same rejections. She knew this oh too well.

What she needed was her own place, with people of understanding, with people of real concern - with people who cared. With her own little community, her own little fellowship, were people understood Lucy Smith and accepted her on her own terms. Accepted her as who she was.

And then she opened her eyes, and stood upright and, looking to the side of the pool she saw Daniel, sitting there, in board shorts and a t-shirt, smiling at her.

'Daniel. What are you doing here.'

'I had an intuition,' he responded.

'Witches are the ones who have intuitions,' she replied, drying her hair. 'Anyway. What type of intuition?'

'That you wanted to talk to me,'

She sat down next to him. 'It's a great pool, you know.'

'It hasn't changed in years. It was different when I was a kid. Didn't have a roof. But it's remained the same, now, for a long time.'

'What do I want to talk to you about?' she asked him, looking at him.

'I don't know. Something is on your mind.'

'Mmm,' she said, suspiciously. Something was.

'You know, I have left witchcraft, in the end. I don't think I will return to it. Ever. Oh, I don't know. Something strange might happen, like God saying it was ok, or something like that. Or something unexplainable.'

'Some mystery,' he said.

'Mmm. I'm looking for a home, Daniel.'

'You have one,' he said.

'Not what I mean.'

They were silent for a while, and he sensed she wanted to say something important.

'I'm looking for a family, a home, a community. Something to belong to. I don't know, a group or something. As bizarre as it might sound, a fellowship.'

'You want to join Haven?' he asked her.

'I don't know. Do I?'

He looked at her, and looked out at the pool. The schoolkids had just started showing up after school, and some lessons were about to begin.

'Do you want to come back to my place?' he asked her. 'We can perhaps talk better there. There is something I could show you.'

'Ok,' she said.

She changed, drying herself, and taking off her bikini and putting her clothes back on. He had driven down from his house and as they took the short trip up to Cooma North she was pleasantly surprised by the house they pulled up in. It was quite impressive.

When they got inside a cat instantly jumped at her.

'Don't mind her. Mushroom 14 is very affectionate.'

'You are kidding, aren't you?' she laughed.

'One of Shelandragh's Mushrooms came to us, once,' he replied. 'I have continued the numbering. Out of tradition.'

She stroked the cat, smiling at it and playing with it. It was the traditional dilute american calico, something most of the Mushroom's she had known had been. It seemed to be taken for granted, and it looked a lot like its predecessors, and extremely friendly to boot.

Daniel went to the bookshelf and shortly returned with a book. He handed it to her.

'What's this?' she asked him.

'A book. On witchcraft. Written by one of the rare Karaite Noahides in the world. It came out near the beginning of this century. Its qutie rare. Quite valuable now, as well.'

She leafed through its paces. 'What's it say?' she asked him curiously.

'Its an objective look at what witchcraft is all about and how the Torah treats it. But its more than that. It is written with a philosophy. A philosophy on religion in general, about how we should treat others who are different from us. In how mercy prevails over judgement and that getting along, in the end, and tolerating people, were they are at, in the things they enjoy in life, even in awkward things for other people, builds patience in us and helps us to be even more loving people. Its about acceptance,' he said.

'Acceptance?' she asked him.

'Acceptance,' he confirmed.

She opened the book, and turned to the introduction. It read.

'Before I even begin to address our subject, there is something I feel I need to say. Something important I need to say. Its about life, and about what, in the way I see it, is the heart of the Torah. The heart of God. Its not that this is right and that is wrong. Its not that she is lawful and she is liberal. Its not that they are holy and they are worldly. Its not that at all. Its that us - we - humans - people. Are family. Are one, big, family of Noah. And families are meant to care for each other. In all the pogroms against Israel throughout the generations, in all the racisms against negroes and all the bigotries against Kurds and all the slurs and all the prides and all the prejudices, there has been one thing that was absent. Love. And while the most venomous of serpents might kill in the name of his caste, even he loves his mother. Even Adolph had a mum. When we really know what it means to be a Noahide - when it goes beyond just the formal title of our religious observation - when it goes beyond being affiliated with this or that congregation, or joining this or that synagogue or fellowship - when it gets to the point when our faith is true, and we really do believe that ALL mankind are children of Noah, one big, giant, family, we start to realize that the person we want to hate, or the person we want to be at war with, or the Jew we want to kill or the Adulteress we want to stone or the Faggot we want to bash - or the witch we want to dunk - we start to realize that they, like us, have a mother. And that, going right back, their mother was the wife of Noah, presumably Titea or Naamah or some other name, and that, in the end, it is our own family that we are discriminating agaginst. And when we know, as sure as the Rainbow appears everlastingly so, that it is our own flesh and blood we want to hate in the name of religious zealotry, that we might, we just might, stop and think and ask ourselves, do we really, really want to hurt this person. Do I really want to kill this person who might just be a few generations away from being my very own blood kin. Witchcraft, in the end, is supposed to be a sin. And as Torah says, tolerate not a sorceress. But when that sorceress is your own child, your own flesh and blood, your very own offspring, I ask you this question: Will you be the first person to cast the first stone? Will you? In our discussion on witchcraft I want to remind the reader of the most important lesson of all. That Law, simply for its own sake, not tempered by all the relevant facts of the situation, not tempered by due concerns for the persons affected, not tempered by mercy, not tempered by love,only leaves a cold hard shell were the self righteous soul can say 'At least I obey', but in which the joys of mercy and forgiveness are things not really known or understood. Without love there is not much joy in life, and the heart of God's justice is to forgive and accept. And that judgement, which, in the end must come if absolutely necessary, ever be tempered by a firm resolve that the person is such that he, or she, is truly guilty of evil, and that the dark choices which have lead them astray into the darkest kinds of magic or of serious enough intent that, to the heart of a caring person, who loves his family, who loves God, and who has mercy, the resolute actions which follow are done, in the end, for due concern for the wellbeing, health - and LIFE - of those whose lives would otherwise be put at peril.'

'Gosh,' she said.

'Do you like?' he asked her.

'Oh, very much Daniel. Very, very much.'

'It's yours,' he said.

'Oh, know. I couldn't possibly.'

'Don't worry. I have another copy in Canberra.'

She looked at the volume. A rare copy of a book, of a rare enough world Karaite Noahide library of books, anyway. On Witchcraft! How blessed.

'I'll treasure it forever, Daniel.'

'No worries.'

She was so happy, she came next to him, and kissed him on the cheek.

'I didn't expect that,' he said.

'You deserve it.'

And so, for the next few weeks, Lucy read, and while it talked of similar ideas she had already known, it gave her understanding, it gave her insight, it gave her knowledge and wisdom on the subject so very dear to her own heart, and, more than that, it gave her mercy, that she never quite forgot Daniel's beautiful gift. And she was forever grateful because of it.

Chapter Two

Shelandragh was sitting with Lucy. She had something to get off her chest. An old secret. An old betrayal of Lucy, in a sense, but something she had never been ashamed of anyway. But with what Lucy had now chosen, to forego magic anyway, it was time to confess her old, hidden, secret.

'Lucy,' said Shelandragh.

'Yes,' said Lucy, not looking up from the book Daniel had given her.

'Do you think you are still a witch?'

Lucy looked at her. 'The power. The power within me, Shelandragh. Its still there. I feel it. It hasn't gone anywhere. Yes, I'm still a witch. But no, I won't use it anymore. You know why.'

'That's good Lucy. But really, with what is in YOU, you don't really need to worry. Oh, dear, dear Lucy. You never really did.'

Lucy looked at her, slightly perplexed, and asked her. 'What do you mean?'

'You know I have the magic in me, don't you Lucy?'

'Yes Shelandragh.'

'So did you, once. But that was a long, long time ago. Just when I first met you. You had it then, but it is long gone, my child.'

'But I have practiced magic for years.'

'But what type of magic?

'Oh. Oh, well we use Animism now, but, um, well, um.' She left off. 'What are you driving at, Shelandragh?'

'When you were very young magic was in you. Like I said. But, do you remember when you stayed at my place. It was about the seventh or eighth visit that first year, and you were very sick. You had a fever for days and vomited.'

'Oh God, do I. It was awful. I felt as if I had died.'

'You did. Or at least your magic did?'

'Huh?'

'I rebirthed you Lucy. You didn't know, but one night, while you were sleeping, I put you into a trance, and I killed it in you. The ancient gift of your Smith heritage. I killed it and only rebirthed animism into you. It is similar, and works with exactly the same spells, the ones I arranged for you to cast, but it is a different type of energy. Purely natural. Purely animistic. Oh, Lucy. You have not been a witch most of your life. I hate to say it, but you are only an extraordinarily gifted, well. Well muggle Lucy. The power of magic has long died in you.'

Lucy looked at her, not knowing what to say. And then she looked very cross, and went to her room, returned with a wand, and almost swore at Shelandragh. She pointed her wand at the bookcase and, using what memory she had of magic, tried. Tried to make the spell work, but nothing. The bookcase just stayed firm. Nothing moved.

'Now try animism,' said Shelandragh.

She yelled 'Hover', and the bookcase lifted. She returned it to the ground, and looked again at Shelandragh, hotly. 'You killed me? You killed my magic?'

'Oh, Lucy. Whatever could I do. Like yourself, long ago I knew, in the end. I knew. The magic, it is not goodness in the end. It only leads you astray, in the end. Inevitably, inexorably, astray. I had to save you. To rebirth you. To start you anew, with something which is good. Which is acceptable to the ultimate power. I did it for your own good, Lucy Smith, but please understand. I had no choice.'

Lucy glared at her, and wanted to use the same Hover spell on her teacher, but instead calmed down, went to her bedroom, and did not come out again that day.

The following morning Lucy was in the kitchen, frying bacon. When Shelandragh came in, Lucy served them breakfast.

'Do you want to talk about it?' asked Shelandragh softly.

Lucy said nothing. Then she started. 'Its not that you have lied. I understand why. You had your reasons. And in the end, now, when all is said and done. I guess, yes, you did the right thing. Its just so, so.'

'So what?' asked Shelandragh.

'So disappointing. To think I was something I never really was. That I was never one of them. Never, really, a witch. That it was a lie. All the time a lie.'

'So many Shamans were just animists in the end, Lucy. Its nothing to be ashamed of. Really, it is the other. It is something to be proud of. I wanted to save you the heartache of what things you would one day experience. The kind of touches from darkness you have never known. They hate you especially because of it. Because you are more than a white witch, Lucy Smith. You are a saint.'

'I wish,' said Lucy, grinning a little.

'No. You are,' said Shelandragh. 'Believe me Lucy Smith. You are.'

A few days later Lucy was still reading Daniel's book and then, late one afternoon, she simply said,'well, whatever then. And then she put the book on her shelf and didn't worry after that. And then David Rothchild showed up that night.

'They were in the back room, chatting, when David said. 'Anyway. I have a reason for my visit.'

'Oh. Oh, yes?' asked Lucy.

'Your power. Your animistic power. Have you been enjoying it?'

Lucy was almost embarassed, but nodded.

'That is good,' said David. 'Now, he who is doesn't normally share his gifts with humans, whatever their kind, at that kind of level, dear Lucy Smith. But you have a long ling of responsible enough Smith's behind you who have not abused the dark magic, evil as it may be, and God wanted to wean you off of that so gave you, well, his own stuff. Alright, it is God's own energy which he uses in creation, and it is sacred and holy and you are very, very lucky.'

'Your kidding, aren't you?' said Lucy, amazed.

'No I am not, Lucy. But don't get used to it. Your destiny, in the end, is indeed a muggle. A regular, normal, down to earth, muggle. But that is a long, way away. You see, our heavenly father has a great commission for you.'

'Are you serious?' asked Lucy.

'Very. God likes his witches who repent. Very much. Witchcraft, as you know, has long been a naughty naughty naughty.'

Lucy smirked at that. And David continued, in his very loving tone.

'So you have a task from God. One which your teacher has gradually been doing as well. In the end, I can't have a world full of wizards, cutting corners as some might say, but in the end trafficking in witchcraft, which just brings down the neighbourhood becuase it runs amok after a while, and doesn't know when to call it a day. The dark magic has always been a passionate beast, and Samael never knows when to give it a rest.'

'Who is Samael?' asked Lucy confused.

'A child of heaven who is a very naughty boy,' responded David. 'Thus, you have permission to use God's special energy for a while, but it has a responsibility, which will ultimately lead to its own downfall as well. For you to use anyway. I need someone, Lucy, who the witches trust. Who the witches like. You must do, unfortunately, from time to time, the exact thing Shelandragh did to you. You must get your magical community away from the dark power. And because I must wean someone off its mothers milk, you will be allowed to birth Animism in them to replace that. And that will be the new power of magic for the time being.'

'But that will go as well, won't it?' asked Lucy. 'One day.'

'Lucy Smith. We all need to grow up, in the end, don't we. We all need to not cut corners, and do things the right way, in the end. Don't we.'

Lucy soberly nodded. 'Yes, David. I know. I know. I know. A hundred times over, I know.'

'So, saint of God,' he said in a soft tone. 'Have some fun while you are still young. The animism is available you again, for you are responsible enough. But do remember your commission, and may God be with you, Lucy the Witch. Lovely child of heaven, Lucy the Witch?'

'Huh?' she asked on the last point.

'Nothing,' said David, and smiled even more so.

Enrique and Lucy were schmoozing. Or, to put it in another way, they were being quite randy with each other. Enrique was an amorous lover, and Lucy, a litte while later, vomiting in the morning, came to herself and swore. 'Shit. I must be...' She did the test and it came back positive. Lucy Smith was, at long last, going to have a baby.

'If its a boy?' she asked him.

'Enrique. Like his daddy.' responded Enrique. 'But you can choose the girl's name.

'How about Jenny,' said Daniel. 'I had a friend who suggested the name once.'

Lucy thought that over. 'Jenny Lopes. That has never been used before, has it?'

Enrique almost smiled.

For three months they did the things expecting couples do, and then Enrique, down on one knee, took out the ring and said 'If you would do me the most amazing of honours, my beloved Lucy.'

Lucy shrieked at the size of the rock, kissed him wildly, and showed it to all and sundry for the next 3 weeks solid.

'There are three types of people in the world. Observers, entertainers, and those who pay money for girls.'

'And let me guess,' said Lucy to Daniel's sarcastic comment, 'you're all three, aren't you?'

Daniel looked guilty, so she said nothing more.

When they had finished moving the new bookcase into the back room Daniel spoke up. 'Why on earth do you need another bookcase, Lucy? You have seven already.'

Lucy smiled. 'Ok. I love books. I guess you had noticed.'

'I mean, sure. I do to. But I read only sporadically, and while I do have heaps of bookcases, the books are sort of being put aside.'

'For what?' she asked, curiously.

'Oh, nothing,' he said.

'Out with it,' said Lucy, demanding an answer.

'Rights,' he responded.

She was stumped on that one.

'What the hell do you mean, Daniel?'

Daniel lookeed at her as if it was something he didn't really want to speak on but with her inquiring look he eventually succumbed. He sat down at the table and began.

'Rights. Rights of earthly interaction. Rights established through getting to know someone, through sleeping with someone, through eating a type of food for the first time, through obtaining a book or comic or CD or some other item. Through going to a new place for the first time, or engaging in some other fun activity or type of event. Rights. For the next world. For they do not necessarily come, earth rights, unless you obtain them on earth. I have to keep the books I want for a time period to absolutely ensure I have access rights to purchase them in the next life. Without the access rights, if the book is not released, I have no absolute rights to obtain it. If I obtain the book on earth I have legal rights to obtain the book in the heavenlies. Yet, it must be kept for a minimum of one year, or have been destroyed before that time in my ownership through an accident of some kind. Merely thrown out as useless, and not appreciated before the year is out, usually leads to it being questioned wether you appreciated the book or not in the first place.'

'How the hell do you know all this?' she asked, quizzically.

'The Holy Spirit teaches me these things. It is about what you acquire on earth. What you acquire on earth is what you acquire on earth. Summing it up. So that, ultimately, what you acquire on earth is what you are entitled to acquire in heaven - of the earthly products released there. There are lots more heavenly products, of course, and that is the real reward for getting to heaven. But for your favourite earth products. Well, well that is somewhat what our sojourn here in Terra is all about.'

'Oh. Ok,' she said. He nodded, and didn't speak again on the subject.

After a while she spoke. 'Can David confirm this idea?' she asked him.

'Probably. The messiah knows most things.'

She looked at him funnily. 'Why do you call him the messiah?' she asked him.

'Nothing,' he said, looking guilty. 'Do you want to go out for some yummy burgers again?'

She looked at him seriously, but let the 'Messiah' issue drop. 'Ok. We'll get your blessed yummy burgers.'

'Yum,' he said.

'I guess, Lord, I'm supposed to be holy in the end. Aren't I? Holy. Doing Godly things. I have been reading Torah, you know. Recently especially. Mainly on Noah. My father. My ancient father. I treat Daniel like close family now, because of it. Daniel is a Noahide. And that is what I have chosen for myself. And I don't like the Talmuds, having read some of them. But I do like the bible. So, if it is ok with you, I will now join the 'Haven' Fellowship. I'll join it forever. If that is ok with you, God.'

The wind suddenly picked up, rustling in the leaves of the little park. And she felt a sense of peace. A true sense of peace. And then, the Most High God, on the throne of Zaphon, was satisifed with some ancient prayer requests of Daniel Daly, and a little part of his spirit came down from heaven, and lodged in both Lucy Smith's heart and that of Daniel Daly's heart, and the official spirit of Haven Noahide Fellowship was born.

She sat with Daniel, and the plastic rainbow up against the wall of the main lecture hall in which they were seated seemed so very comforting. Like old school memories, of younger years in Cooma, at St Pats, a little young girl in a scary muggle world. But the room she was in, with bookcases along the walls with Daniel's angel novels and other Karaite Noahide books, the worldwide Karaite Noahide community's entire effort, apparently, and posters of Noah's Ark, and other Noahide paraphernalia, especially the big plastic rainbow, made her feel like she was in a special place. A place she could truly call home.

Daniel finished reading fron the Karaite Noahide Prayerbook, and they sat in silence for a while. Finally Lucy soke. 'I have noticed this place for years, The sign says 'Temple of Elohim.' I didn't know it was the official Haven Noahide Fellowship meeting hall.'

'We have never had an official service yet. Daniel Rothchild is a co-founder, but has no interest in meetings anymore. He sticks with his brother. Aaron Goodsell was almost a member of Haven at times, but has never really joined. I think his destiny is to eventually be a Karaite Jew. He was circumcis'ed as a child. Not for Judaism, but to me that is where it ultimately leads. It has really only ever been me as the official member of Haven Noahide Fellowship. There are over 100 over Karaite Noahides alive in the world today, and in the last century about 12 Karaite Noahide books were written by various people, not including my own, and I have written heaps of them. Mainly the Rainbow Bible series and the Chronicles of the Children of Destiny stories.'

'You have written about me,' she said.

'Sorry about that Lucy.'

'Its ok. Why did you choose Cooma North to build this place.'

'I had thoughts about it when I was young. Living in Cooma for a while. I liked the location. It seemed right. Cooma was not very big then, and it was affordable, but I never really changed my mind when other possibilities presented themselves. Cooma north was always the destiny in the end.'

'Are you trying to grow the fellowship?' she asked.

'I prayed once. Only those who God thinks are right for the 7 Divine Fellowships.'

'7!' she exclaimed.

'Oh, yes. I forgot. There are 7 planned Karaite Noahide fellowships by myself. It has long been the plan. They have been named and each has particular doctrinal positions as in opposition to the others. Slightly differing approaches.'

'Oh,' she responded.

'But the first one is Haven Noahide Fellowship.'

'Right,' she responded.

After a while they went into the lunch room, and eating some cold chicken and drinking ice tea Daniel smiled. 'I am not trying to rush the growth of Haven. All in God's good time. I have plenty of patience for the project. It needs it as well. Always has been a competitive spiritual marketplace, to put it bluntly.'

'Marketplace?' she queried.

'Every Tom, Dick and Jonathon started a church once. They were called Protestants.'

She smirked at that one, and Daniel grinned madly.

'But serioulsy, there are an abundance of soul savers. Each trying to win their flocks glory. Very competitive spiritual world.'

'And you are part of it,' she said.

'A Haven in the maelstrom,' he said smiling.

'A Haven in the maelstrom,' she repeated.

She sat there for a while and the day slowly passed. Daniel put on a Missy Higgins CD, and after the 'Cooling of the embers', Lucy turned to him.

'So I have joined Haven. Am I saved now?'

'If you go the distance,' he responded.

'Which is?' she asked.

'Till death,' he replied.

She took a sip of her juice, and looked squarely at him. 'Ok. Daniel Daly. I will remain till death. But what then?'

'You are qualified then. Built on God's rock. The Noahide family. We are on an official covenant. Not a false one.'

'What do you mean?' she asked.

'Catholics. There is only one true church, in the end. For the purposes of Salvation in Christianity. The others will inherit. They'll join her, later on in eternity. Or a Noahide movement. Or not.'

'And if they don't?' she asked.

'They won't. Last, I mean. They are not on the rock. Not on God's people. Noahidism and Judaism can function with branches. They must respect the foundation for God to respect us. It doesn't work in Christianity. There is only one church, the Catholic one. And protestants don't respect her. They are searching for a freedom away from the authority of the Priesthood never allowed to them. They are trying to do it their own way. Even when they have a doctrine which is more biblical than the Catholic doctrine it really doesn't matter. That's not the point with God. It is about fidelity to the foundational church. Jesus, the apostles, and the early Christian world. Those in Catholicism have never left the foundations of their church, yet Protestants have. It doesn't actually matter if they are right on this particular doctrine, or that particular biblical interpretation, or whatever issue of supposed morality they maintain. That never mattered. The Catholics still represent Christianity and the foundations of the faith. They have never left their foundations. And those foundations are built on Israel and Israel built on Abraham and then on Noah and then on Adam and Eve. The Catholics are built on the foundation, but the Protestants try to do their own things. It doesn't matter how many times they claim supposed bibical accuracy. They are just not built on God's rock. And later on in eternity they will know, when they are embroiled in their sins, why they were never really saved in the first place.'

'Oh,' said Lucy. 'I see. Its about God's people.'

'Yes,' said Daniel. 'And he never moves from those who he chooses to save. He has one rock, ok. Not several. And if you are on the rock and acknowledge his foundation, and those who he has called as his own, then he accepts you. Protestantism, in the end, is choose your own church. It is not choose the church. It is choose your own church. It doesn't work like that. Not in the real world. You go to God's official assembly. Or you don't go to God.'

Lucy, later on in the prayer room, submitted to God's authority then. In quiet prayer, with respect to Hashem, she accepted Daniel as her pastor, and repented of any straying towards a false temple of salvation. She wouldn't again look for her own thing. She would trust in Yahweh, and walk in his peoples community. Forever, now. Forever.

Grimlock was happy. He was back at his western Tasmanian abode, lost in the mountains, away from everyone, away from mankind, listening to his melancholic symphonic metal music, contemplative of his last hundred years of life, happy. Above all other things, he was happy. But there were issues in the mind of Grimlock. Issues of sin. Issues of old fashioned sin.

Grimlock was a wizard, that much probably would never change, and he had chosen the dark magic from a young age and probably would never look back. Probably. But then, once, he had killed in the name of his religion. And then he had provided virgins for sacrificial rites. And other things he had done since which had claimed lives, and Grimlock had known then that he was evil. And that he was damned.

And then, later on in life, he remembered he had been baptised in the Anglican church as an infant, and then, later on in life, he thought about his soul. Did he want to spend forever in hell, serving his own platitudes? Did he want to always do as he would, the witches motto, and not give a damn? Did he want to forever bind his will to the darl lords of evil and reject, forever, that other sovereign power, which supposedly offered forgiveness? Did he give a damn about salvation? Of course not, of course not, of course not, he told himself, time and time again. And then, one day, he did. It happened one afternoon, in a Hobart library, were he was looking in the witchcraft section, when a bible fell off a shelf nearby. He seemed to pick it up, just out of hospitality, and he read the page it opened at. It was Psalm One, and it was highlighted in yellow. He read it, and learned what he already knew. The fate of the wicked. And then, later that year, he dreamed of being plunged by an angry looking father figure into a vat of acid, with the father figure saying 'Do you really think you deserve anything less, ya bloody heathen.' He got the point from the dream. God was not happy with him.

But Grimlock did not want to repent. He enjoyed being a wizard. He enjoyed being - evil. Yet he also knew the fate of the wicked, and the furious old man in his dream scared him. Really scared him. Perhaps he should just repent and have done with it. Even if he didn't want to, better to confess his sin, and be honest about it all. And try again. Could he let go of the dark magic? He doubted it. But thoughts of the old man plunging him once more into the vat of acid were enough, in the end, to change his mind. Whatever hell was he was now sure he didn't want to go there, which left repentance as the only option. The thing was, would the big kahuna take it from him? Would he be able to convince God he had amended his ways. Would he? He sure hoped so, thinking once more of that unfriendly vat, and a very pissed off looking old fella.

'

Lucy sat in the back room of her Mittagong Road abode. James Daly, Daniel's nephew, was with her. He was very old now, in a wheelchair, soon ready to depart. Daniel had doted on him for a number of years now, very concerned with his brother Gregory's firstborn son. Only Madalene had not really aged in the Daly clan, apart from Enrique and David and Madalene in an old past in many ways, elect of God, according to David and many others, waiting on something. Waiting on some grand destiny.

'Later on. Loose. Later on. When all the pretenders have had their say, people just gravitate to us. It is what we are. The truths that they respect.'

'Why us, David?' she had asked him.

'Because we were fashioned for the task. Even James there, sleeping in the corner, has a special destiny. His parents taught him way too much Catholic morality, and he remained faithful to the catholic church because of it. But he is one of the chosen as well. He always has been. There are a lot of them in Daniel's family. Those who have been before.'

'What does that mean?' she asked him.

David winked at her. 'You'll remember one day, Lucy Smith. One day.'

'Whatever,' said Lucy Smith, and David winked at her again.

They were out on the Cootralantra road, just a kilometere inwards from the Cooma to Berridale way, Enrique's Holden in bright red, covered in paintings of dragons and witches and wizards.

'Shall we go to that Hotel?' Enrique asked her.

Lucy considered it, but declined. 'No. The Berridale pub like we agreed.'

'Ok,' said Enrique.

They were on the side of the road, a rug set up, having lunch. A strange place to have lunch, but Lucy enjoyed this area of the Monaro.

'Lucy? Erique asked her. 'Do you love me?'

'You ask that a lot,' she said smiling.

He looked directly at her. 'Because you never give me a straight answer. I have asked that question of you forever. And you have never given me a yes, or even hinted at it.'

'Oh, don't be so dramatic, Rique.'

'You always say that as well,' he responded.

She glared at him, but let it drop.

'Is it because you like David?' he asked her.

'David? You are kidding right. God, David. I mean, don't get me wrong, David is probably the most loving person in the universe. Nobody quite like David Rothchild. But to answer your question, no. I am not in love with David Rothchild.'

'We're getting married, ok Loose. I need to know these things.'

'Enrique Lopes. I would hardly marry you if I didn't have feelings for you.'

'But not love, is that it?'

She looked at him, then looked away. She really didn't know what to say. She had been with Enrique for so long now, and taken so much for granted, that how could it ever possibly be a problem saying those 3 little words. How could it ever?

'It's because there is somebody else, right?'

She didn't answer.

'If we are to be man and wife, Loose. I need to know, ok. I need to know.'

She took out a cigarette, a rare one she occasionally smoked, and looked at him. 'How important is the answer to you?'

'Fundamental?' he said.

She considered that. 'And if I say no?'

'Then why are we getting married?'

She nodded. She should have expected that.

'Then why are we getting married. If you don't love me,' he said.

'Your putting words in my mouth, Rique. I didn't say I didn't love you.'

'But you didn't say you did,' he responded, slightly annoyed.

'No. I didn't,' she responded.

He looked at her, and wanted to continue the subject, but he could tell from her mood it would be best to let the issue drop. She hadn't committed. He knew that then. She hadn't committed to him. They were to have child, but her heart was elsewhere. Perhaps owned by another, but perhaps not. Certainly not the kind of committment that could yet say 'I love you,' unreservedly to the Terran Dragonrider.

Later on that night, when she was reading a book, she put it down and said to him in the bed beside herself. 'I can't say those words yet, Enrique. Because, oh God. I love you like a brother. For so long now it has been just that. With brotherly love and affection. But nothing more, ok. I will marry you because that is what you want. But I can't commit in the way you want me to. Ok. Its not there between us.'

Enrique, lying there, thinking over those words, finally acknowledged what he had long known was true. Lucy Smith's heart belonged elsewhere. 'Then, ok. I understand. Shall we say, the wedding is postponed for now to our friends, and we'll just put it on hold indefinitely till they get the point.'

She thought on that, and put her arm around him. 'That would be for the best, Enrique Lopes.' And that was the end of the situation.

The situation with Enrique had not gone exactly as she perhaps would have liked, yet him disappearing again for a while was not unexpected. Still, what could you do? It didn't, however, deter her from the most important thing to happen in the life of Lucy Smith, and she was so excited, attempting to take care of everything, she even asked for the birth certificate papers so she could have them filled out already, so anxious was she to have everything perfect. Cooma hospital provided them for her, not minding the slight change in protocols.

'Can you fill these out for me,' she asked Shelandragh.

'And the name?' asked Shelandragh?'

'Oh, God. Of course. I don't know yet. Well, if its a boy we agreed on Enrique. Like his daddy.'

'And a girl?' asked Shelandragh.

'Jenny,' said Lucy. 'We both agreed on Jenny.'

'Wonderful,' said Shelandragh. 'Jenny it is.'

'If it's a girl,' said Lucy.

'Yes. If its a girl,' said Shelandragh, a little grin on her face. A grin as if she already knew.

And so she fussed for a while, and painted the baby's room a compromising pale gold, with tranfers of zoo animals, and couldn't resist a 'Middle Earth' assortment of characters, just because. Enrique didn't show, but she didn't care, and when the baby bump became obvious, Shelandragh and her were having tea in the back room most afternoons, talking lady talk about a new child in the family. And then the issue finally came up and Shelandragh looked very serious about it.

'It might have the gifts. It might not. We really don't know. What will you do, either way?'

'Either way I will love my child, Shelandragh May. Either way I will love my child.'

And Shelandragh seemed satisfied with that answer.

Daniel brought around some ancient celtic tales books, of wonderful moral lessons written for youngsters.

'Read to the child. They grow up far more intelligent if read to them. Right away, as well. Its a fundamental for kids. And this kids a smarty pants;'

'How do you know?' Lucy asked him.

'Could it be anything but,' he said smiling.

Lucy took confidence from that and ate her greens, and other craved foods, and as the fourth month passed Lucy was looking forward, day by day, to the new birth in the family. Even without an absent father, Lucy was on top of the world.

Alexander Darvanius II, or ADII as he liked to be called, sat in his office in London, looking over stock reports, his mind not seriously on his job at all really, in fact far, far away. Far away in Australia. Alexander was a child of destiny, as so many were, and the 7th of the Angels of the Realm of Eternity was involved with a contract. A divine contract, between the Child of Heaven Samael, and the other Children of God. The children of Heaven, which was the divine realm birthed after 'Home' were God, Metatron, Logos and Memra resided, were special agents of destiny in key roles they undertook for the Heavenly Father in his creation. There had been a play, once, prior to which roles had been chosen, and as that play had come and gone, ramifications for it had been established - right at the foundation of creation. The child of heaven, Abraham, had taken the role of God. And in the play the forces of darkness had confronted the children of light. The child of heaven Samael had taken the role of 'The Devil', and aided by the child of Heaven, the female Aphrayel, who had chosen the role of 'Death', Sammy had battled heaven's chosen, yet failed. It had only been a play - nothing more - but the roles had been set by God to be part of an unfolding plan, an eternal plan, in which the children of heaven would function as divine forces ruling the universe.

And as Samael, afterwards, grew in his wicked pleasures, delighting in his role, the children of heaven knew, that, with the forthcoming Realms of Infinity, Eternity and Paradise to be born, and the others hinted at by God, Samael's wickedness would know no tether. And so a contract had been borne, which Samael had agreed to. And the heart of that contract hinged on an ultimate encounter between the child of heaven, Lucy, whose role had been the witch, and a future angel of the realm of Eternity, the dread Lord Saruviel. And that encounter hinged on a choice. A strange choice that Lucy, child of heaven, must make. For Samael's wickedness or Samael's repentance hinged on the outcome.

So Alexander thought on Lucy, often. She was never far from his considerations, and while, soon, very soon, he knew an encounter was coming, which would shape his eternal destiny, it still remained. One more choice, afterwards. A choice in which the eternal struggle between good and evil would be resolved for quite a while. Billions of years in fact. And, good or ill, Saruviel contemplated, many a day, just what that strange choice, should the witch child of heaven choose as such, would be.

'I have a poem for you Lucy.'

Lucy, who had been preoccupied with a kicking baby looked at Daniel. 'Out with it then.'

'That's what I like about you Lucy Smith. Always so direct.'

'The poem,' she insisted.

'Its about our faith. A funny perspective on things. It's called sing a song of six pence. An alternative to the classic. Here goes,' and he began reading from one of his books.

"Six Fine Pennies

Sitting in a Row

One for Peter

One for Paul

One for John & Joe

Six Fine Pennies

Mary has one too

And not forgetting Jesus Christ

Whose penny is for you

Salvation boy

Believes he is

Messiah of God's Glory

Salvation boy

Believes he is

The Star of God's great Story

I have a tale

To tell to you

Of life and death and truth

Of Jesus Christ

Who took the nails

Supposedly for you

Six Fine Pennies

Sitting in a Row

One for Peter

One for Paul

One for John & Joe

Six Fine Pennies

Mary has one too

And not forgetting Jesus Christ

Whose penny is for you

There is a lad

A shepherd King

Who slew a giant proud

The Champion

Of Israel

The Hero of the Crowd

A boy like him

Of noble birth

The Star of this our story

With sling and stone

He will strike home

Against the false Christs Glory

Six Fine Pennies

Sitting in a Row

One for Peter

One for Paul

One for John & Joe

Six Fine Pennies

Mary has one too

And not forgetting Jesus Christ

Whose penny is for you

For Israel

Have known the fact

Of Messiah since their youth

He's of the stuff

Of Jesses boy

Of Boaz and of Ruth

Six fine pennies

We've known and been around

But how can pennies

Truly rate

When warring with a Crown

Six Fine Pennies

Sitting in a Row

One for Peter

One for Paul

One for John & Joe

Six Fine Pennies

Mary has one too

And not forgetting Jesus Christ

Whose penny is for you

The Church of God

The Glory Children

Whose faith's in Christ their King

Yet Israel

An Older Flock

To Another Champ they sing

200 Pennies it would take

To Conquer this one true

But the Crown of God's Son Israel

Has Crowns for Me and You

Jesus Christ's a Penny Man

When it comes to his great treasure

Yet in David King of Israel

You'll find your souls true pleasure

Six Fine Pennies

Sitting in a Row

One for Peter

One for Paul

One for John & Joe

Six Fine Pennies

Mary has one too

And not forgetting Jesus Christ

Whose penny is for you."

'Oh, poor Jesus. Only one penny.'

'But just for you,' said Daniel.

'David. You think he is the Messiah. The real one.'

Daniel was silent.

'Well, is he?'

'There is a guy in the bible. An old Jewish governor. Some times I wonder.'

'Oh,' she said.

'But nothing to lose sleep over, Lucy Smith. Nothing to lose sleep over.'

'Don't worry. I won't,' she replied confidently, a confidence a younger Daniel Daly once searched diligently for.

Lucy was with Shelandragh, in the back room, finally putting out her last cigarette.

'You have not been wise, Lucy Smith. Smoking while pregnant.'

'Oh, shut up,' said Lucy. 'I know I'm a silly duffer, but I love the little coffin nails.'

'Mmm,' said Shelandragh disapprovingly. 'Well, better late than never.'

'It's only till I give birth. Then, God willing, I will smoke again for many a long year.'

'God willing?' she queried, eyebrow raised. 'Perhaps your health should be more of a consideration than a flakey God willing.'

'Oh, shut up,' she said again, a sarcastic look on her face.

She took her pack of Port Royal tobacco and her papers, put them up on the top of the bookcase, and looked at them longingly. She was addicted. She knew it. She didn't care, really, but wouldn't risk the child in her womb any more having any potential problems.

Shelandragh sipped on her tea and looked at Lucy. 'Now, what was so important that you wanted to talk about?'

Lucy sipped on her black coffee and eyed her mentor. 'Its something quite unique. A divine commission.'

'A divine commission?' asked Shelandragh May, eyebrow again raised.

'From David. The Messiah,' she said dramatically.

'The Messiah indeed,' said Shelandragh. 'Well. Tell me then. What precious divine commission has the Messiah,' saying the word Messiah sarcastically, 'entrusted to you.'

'To get rid of you,' said Lucy.

'Hmmm. And what do you mean by that, Lucy Smith?'

'Well, not you exactly. Sort of. But more like witches in general. And wizards. All of the magical community. He wants me, putting it bluntly, to serve God and Torah and gradually wean the magical world away from witchcraft. Put them onto Animistic spirituality first, but ultimately to rid the world of magic. That is David's commission to myself.'

Shelandragh looked at her with unbelief firstly, then shock then, when she saw Lucy's sincerity, perplexity.'

'Well, yes. I suppose. I suppose, in the end, we will have to get over it. In the end. I guess for so long now I have acknowledged that God doesn't really approve of witchcraft and while I still dabble, I would assume, in my long life yet to come, perhaps it would have to eventually respond to this God of creation.'

'Which is my task. Set me by David.'

'And did he say how long you have for this task.'

'Not really. But he hinted that it would take a very long time. And I think he meant beyond this life as well. In some sort of heavenly next world, were I must continue this work.'

'Oh,' said Shelandragh. 'In ... Heaven?'

'Uh. Well. Well I guess so.'

'He lets witches into heaven,' said Shelandragh to herself. 'That much I wasn't sure about.'

'God loves us all,' said Lucy. 'He has great patience. Torah teaches that.'

'Yes. Yes I know. It teaches to kill the witch as well, Lucy Smith. But I suppose God might have patience.'

'Yahweh cares,' said Lucy, defending her faith.

Shelandragh looked at her pupil, mentioning the divine name. It was not something she uttered very much.

'I guess he might,' said Shelandragh. 'But if he has it in for us so much strange that he would want to save us.'

'But isn't that what salvation is all about? Getting it right with God?'

Shelandragh looked at her again. Caught offguard by these ideas. These strange ideas. 'Why, yes. I suppose so. What the Christ was supposed to represent. Salvation.'

'Whatever of Jesus,' said Lucy. 'That's not my faith anyway.'

'No I suppose it isn't. Your a Noahide, aren't you.'

'Yes. And a dedicated one. And if God has a task for me, well. Well I am willing to do it.'

Shelandragh sipped on her tea, considering Lucy's words. The redemption of the world of magic. All entrusted to little old Lucy Smith. Yet, try as she might, in all the witches she had ever known, and all the person's she had ever met in life, perhaps there could be no better choice than little Lucy anyway to engage in what would surely by the most daunting of tasks. Changing a magician into a muggle. She didn't envy her chances.

'You do realize they will be instantly offended by these ideas. Any witches you might try to persuade to forego their craft. We hold it very dear, you know. It is part of us. It is what makes us who we are.'

'We're more than that, Shelandragh. More than just magic users. We're people. With heart. With soul. With very real flesh and very real blood. We are, in the end, God's people. Made in his image. And if the God of holiness doesn't like us cutting corners, then. Then I will serve him and do his will.'

'And why?'

Lucy was silent and looked at her. 'Lots of reasons. Morality. The divine calling. Aspirations of holiness. But one simple one in the end. I love God. It is part of me now. His spirit, I feel it in me. Giving me strength. Giving me meaning, when other things don't satisfy. I love the peace which comes from him, the joy, the happiness. In doing his will I find what I need in life. Its what its all about.'

'I suppose you are right, Lucy Smith. I have never really considered it like that. So personal. But I suppose you are right.'

'I am,' said the Smith girl, with undeniable conviction of heart.

They sat in silence for a while, Shelandragh obviouslly mulling over those words. Soon she spoke.

'Heaven's above, Lucy Smith. I know. I know, in the end, I have not been the wisest of witches. To practice some of the things I have done in my darker days. And I know, I know what it teaches. The Torah. That it is a sin. That the dark magic is a power I should have rejected long ago. But sometimes I feel, oh. Oh, I feel as if we are witches, and that is what we are, and that some things never really change in the end. It is just the way of the world. The way things really are.'

'I know that too,' said Lucy, who, in total admission of hypocrisy had gotten out the cigarettes and was smoking what she promised herself was definitely the last one. 'And part of me agrees with you. I don't know how I can really give it up also. Forever. It is like these blasted ciggies. I love them to death. Probably literally. But in the end, we must face up to it. What we are, as people. Who we are. And the real powers that run it all. The sovereign powers which guide our lives. Guide our destinies. God has been there, all along, you know, Shelly. He wrote his book a long time ago. Right at the beginning of it all. And those rules have never changed. They never do. What, do we ignore the truth forever? Do we pretend it will go away? Do we tell ourselves everything will be alright and never really care that what we do...' she left off, almost embarassed to say what she was going to say.

'What we do?' picked up Shelandragh.

'That what we do is wrong. Ok. There, I said it. In the end we have known that all along. That it was dabbling. That it was witchcraft. That it was a sin. The church never hid that from us.'

'Quite the opposite,' said Shelandragh, thinking on past dark days for the magical community.

'Which means we eventually have to get the point. That we eventually have to toe the line. Because as we grow up and get older, well. Well we have to get over it. And admit it to ourselves.'

'Your moralizing,' said Shelandragh.

'Yes. Yes I am,' said Lucy. 'Forgive me. I get upset too, you know. About the whole thing. But it's what God wants of me, and that is just the way it is. Just the way it really is.'

'I know,' said Shelandragh softly.

Lucy smoked one more cigarette and then, swearing to herself she wouldn't touch another, put the pack away, and sat there, in silence, with a dejected looking Shelandragh May who seemed to be coming to grips with something she had long seen coming. The end of the line for the witchery and magical practices of Shelandragh May, witch extraordinaire.

'Well at least look on the bright side,' said Lucy. 'Life goes on.'

'Yes,' said Shelandragh May, with not just a slight tinge of bitterness. 'Life goes on.'

Life did indeed go on. Through its merry hum and strum, its gentle highways and byways. And for Lucy Smith there was a continual growing anticipation of her first child, which dominated her activities for a while but there were more adventures, still to be, before that happy event would come to be. Especially one bright event in which a gathering of friends, old friends, who had seen many a long year, took place one happy day in the little park Lucy Smith had grown so fond of and accustomed to.

'Hello, Alexander. We are glad you could make it. And is that Brax hiding behind you?'

Brax came out of the dark shadows of Alexander Darvanius II, announcing himself to the gathering, and, even a home for the Devil himself being prepared, they started their happy picnic.

'Gemma,' said David. 'It has been forever. Literally.'

'David Rothchild. I see you haven't changed. Are you still with Justine?'

'She's just getting the salad,' he said, and sure enough Justine Atkinson, wife of David Rotchild, appeared, and they nestled in for an afternoon of fun.

'So. Alexander,' began Daniel Rothchild. 'You have all the power in the universe. Your corporations run this world, practically, now. Have you chosen goodness, I do wonder?'

Alexander looked pleasant, for a change, enjoying his scotch eggs and salad, and smiled at Daniel. 'Not today, dear Mr Rothchild. Today I am off duty. A simple time to enjoy long life with dear old friends.'

'Dear old friends! Humph,' said Lucy Smith. But she had invited him anyway, for he too was some chosen vessel of destiny, and even Alexander needed to be around compatriots who had accompanied him on this long sojourn.

'I just thank God you didn't invite Lucifer,' she said.

'Oh, I think Lucifer will show his head sooner or later,' said Alexander, with a dark look. 'His thoughts are never far from you, dear Lucy Smith.'

'That would be right,' she said.

Shelandragh turned to David. 'So. You have commissioned dear old Lucy. For the extermination of our kind?'

Alexander looked curiously at David Rothchild, one of those to oppose him in many ways. 'The extermination of witches?' he asked him. 'Is the messiah taking us back to the glory of Torah obedience, I wonder?'

David smiled at Alexander, and lifted his glass of wine to him. 'To your good health, dear Alexander.' Alexander lifted his orange juice and repeated the blessing to everyone.

David spoke. 'Nay, not back to the glory days. That is not the commission heavenly father desires with young Lucy.'

'A commission?' said Alexander. 'I know much of such things.' Of course, Alexander and his father had long been a force in the uniting of the Christian Church on a global scale, perhaps, though, for not necessarily the most altruistic of reasons.

'Lucy's commission,' began David, 'is one of a great destiny for this chosen daughter of God. It is not to rid the world of witches and wizards. It is to rid life of the dark power. The dark power of magic,' he said, looking directly at Alexander.

'An interesting challenge,' said Alexander, sipping on his wine. 'Let me know, will you, if she ever succeeds.'

'I'll do that,' said David.

'You don't like magic,' Madalene Bridges said to David. 'It is against your Torah. And you love that Torah, don't you David.'

David looked at Madalene, reminded he once had a crush on the girl. 'Yes, Madalene. It is against the Torah.'

'And the Torah reigns supreme,' smirked Shelandragh.

'Apparently,' said Brax dryly, and all eyes turned to him upon that comment.

'You have no faith in the Torah?' Shelandragh asked Brax.

'I know were my faith is,' said Brax, hesitantly casting a glance at Saruviel.

'Mmm. Interesting,' said Shelandragh.

'You have never killed a man, have you Alexander. Or arranged for one to be killed. That is apparently the reputation you like to maintain,' stated Daniel Rothchild to Alex.

Alex nodded. 'Nor is their any reports or suggestions that I have ever done so. I know, as you all do, we are all caught up in this mysterious destiny, and the powers we all serve often pull no punches. But I have forsaken that. It is against the laws of life, after all. And even the blessed Rainbow Torah alone forbids such a thing.'

Lucy looked at Daniel Daly. He had coined the idea of the Rainbow Torah. She spoke. 'You obey the Rainbow Torah, Alexander?'

Alexander looked at Lucy Smith. 'It does not say much. The Torah, about non jewish people. That is correct, isn't it David?'

David looked at Alexander, smiled at him, but just took another sip of wine.

Daniel Daly spoke up. 'There are - responsibilities - in the Torah towards all mankind. Like our father Noah, we are called to walk with God in our communities. The righteousness of Noah, I presume, should be something of the calling of all our lives. Whatever that righteousness pertains to.'

'And what are these responsibilities, Mr Daly?' aske Alexander Darvanius, looking directly at Daniel.

'A law of life. As we have discussed. And a life is forfeit should you take that of another. Made in the image of God.'

'Mmm,' said Alexander. 'I have surmised as much.'

'There is more to it than that,' said Lucy, proudly.

'Then tell us,' said David, looking at Lucy. All eyes locked on her.

'There is a passage in Jeremiah,' said Lucy. 'It says if my neighbours, and it means if God's neighbours to the Kingdom of Israel. It says if my neighbours will learn the ways of my people and swear 'As Yahweh Lives', as surely as they followed the ways of Baal, they will become my people as well, if they follow my ways. Or some such words to those effect,' she said confidently.

'Indeed,' said Alexander.

'That sounds right, Lucy,' said David smiling. 'We can't escape a Torah way of life. All mankind needs the laws of God, to learn responsible ways. To be at peace with each other,' he said, saying the word 'peace' and looking directly at Alexander Darvanius.

'Yes, we need peace,' said Shelandragh, a comment echoed by all present.

'And what about Jesus Christ?' asked Madalene. 'What about what he says?'

They all looked at her. Alexander spoke. 'Dear Madalene. It would appear you are outnumbered, even by those of your own family. For it is a happy little Torah club you find yourself ensconced in.'

'But your a Christian, aren't you?' Madalene asked of Alexander. He looked at her, and it was a look as if he could say a million words on the subject, of a life long lived and considered on such words, but all he said was, 'To God be the praise, Madalene Bridges. To God be the praise.'

And David Rothchild said 'Amen.'

'I was baptized, once,' said Brax. All eyes turned upon him. He was a little nervous at that, but continued. 'It was weird. That is all I can say. But I sort of felt cleaner later. Sort of like I had been cleansed.'

'Mikveh's are like that,' said Daniel Daly. 'And I feel God honours Christian baptisms as a Mikveh.'

'What's a Mikveh?' asked Gemma.

'A ceremonial washing. Developed from the Torah,' said David.

'Oh,' said Gemma. 'And Jesus was Jewish. Wasn't he David? So that would have been a normal idea for him to do. Baptisms.'

'He was following biblical ideas,' said Daniel Rothchild. 'The prophets speak of washings and new hearts and the like. Jesus applied this theology to his new birth doctrine.'

'Born again,' said Lucy, knowingly. She had thought through those ideas in younger years, studying out the Christians doctrine.

'And what is wrong with that?' asked Madalene.

'Why, nothing,' said David, looking at Maddie. 'Nothing at all. It is a very Torahesque theology in many ways. Centred on the bible.'

'Oh. Ok,' said Madalene, who for once considered that one of the fundamentals of her faith might actually be shared by the Torah community anyway.

'We all need Jesus, don't we Madalene,' said Gemma, in a sarcastic tone.

Madalene smiled shyly, and kept quiet after that.

'Or perhaps some of us need the Devil,' said Shelandragh dryly, looking at Alexander Darvanius.

'Perhaps someone is the devil,' responded Brax, taking a sip of his wine, a comment noticed by many, though quietly spoken.

Alexander decided to change the mood. 'Why don't we go down to the creek. And look at the yabbies. I am sure there are many this time of year.'

And so the group, standing, walked down as a herd, down to the creek, and spent the rest of the afternoon splashing feet in the water, drinking wine, and having, in a very traditional sense, a gay old time.

And later that evening Lucy Smith, for once, could say she enjoyed the company of Alexander Darvanius the Second. For once.

Enrique finally returned. There was a ring on his finger.

'What's that?' asked Lucy.

'A wedding ring,' said Enrique.

'Oh,' said Lucy, taken aback. 'Your married.'

'I am now.'

'Oh,' she said.

Later on, Enrique now in the guest room, resting from his trip, Lucy sat there, in the back room, thinking. Thinking about what had happened recently.

Of course, getting a divine commission from God was something quite important. Quite important indeed. And the scope of the mandate would likely take up her thinking for quite a lot of the uknown and mysterious future before her. And she would not shirk her responsibilities in this commission, and take it seriously. She was that type of girl, after all. A very serious girl. And while it would not consume her whole life, it was sure to be affected and, thinking on that, potentially, her personal life might some times be put on the back burner as she pursued her calling.

Was it such an attitude, perhaps buried in her heart, that had led her to reject Enrique? Probably not, in the end. Probably not. And while she often felt she was a child of destiny, with a special calling, which indeed seemed true, she was sure it only ever embellished her life, not detracted from it. She was sure.

But, looking at that ring, and realizing she had granted Enrique his freedom, she couldn't help but question wether, just wether, she had made the right decision. Enrique had been there forever, her constant companion, looking after her, rescuing her from evil. The Terran Dragonrider, her hearts consolation in many ways. Sure he deserved her love, now? Surely, especially as she was about to give birth to their child. Surely. But, no. They had had an understanding, and he had acted on it, perhaps sooner than they had agreed, but could she really complain? Could she really deny him? He had a life to live too, didn't he. He had his own dreams, his own aspirations, and she could well conceive that, even now, after finally about to be a father for the first time, the utter frustration he might be feeling at his beloved still, in the end, saying no. How could she blame him for that? How could she? And Lucy Smith, so she prided herself in her heart, was always a girl of understanding, liberal in many ways, ready to give somebody the graces, the mercies - the freedoms - their hearts desired. How could she blame him?

But she did, a little, especially in light of the soon anticipated child. And while she would never speak of it to him, far too sensitive to his private life, she was, just a little, disappointed. She had lost her man, in a way. To another woman. And while they were not to be married anyway, and she was still unable to say those words of love he had needed to hear, she was still, just a little, disappointed. Just a little.

Never the less, life went on, and with or without a man by her side, she was soon to give birth. And for the practically minded Lucy Smith, that was the important thing. She was soon to be a mother. For the very first time. And no event, not even the marriage of the child's father, could disuade her from the happiness she was very soon to receive. No event at all.

She didn't normally receive phone calls so late, and let the answering service take care of them, especially on Saturday nights when she liked to stay in for the evening, curl up in bed with hot tea and honey, and a good fantasy novel, but something in Shelandragh May's heart told her she should get this call anyway. She was at home in Bunyan, and it was a very pissed off sounding bartender from one of the Cooma pub's, telling her that her pupil, the illustrious Lucy Smith, was, to put it bluntly, sloshed. Off her head.

'Heaven's above,' said Shelandragh May to herself, as she got in the car, made it into town, and found the said Lucy Smith in a highly inebriated state, hardly able to walk, muttering 'He's a bastard,' all the time.

'She's heartbroken, so she tells me,' said the Bartender. 'Something abou an Enrique leaving her.'

Shelandragh carefully dragged the tottering Lucy out to the car yet, by the side of the road she emptied her stomach, some of the ungodly mess landing right on Shelandragh May's new shoes.

She took her home to her place in Bunyan instead, wanting to keep an eye on her for the night, and as she put her to bed, Lucy came to her senses for a moment. 'I hate him.'

'Who?' asked Shelandragh May.

'Rique,' said Lucy, in a forlorn tone. 'He's married another. Another bloody bitch.'

'Mind your language, Lucy Smith.'

'Screw you Shelandragh,' said Lucy, and almost wanted to vomit again.

'Here is a bucket. Don't mess up my quilts,' said Shelandragh.

When Lucy had dozed off, Shelandragh sat up in the lounge, stoked the fireplace, and drank her tea and lemon, silently thinking. Obviously Enrique had done something. Talked about another lady. Betrayed her, or something or other. She was not sure exactly what was going on, but knew she would get her answer soon enough.

'Oh, heaven's above, Lucy Smith,' said Shelandragh May to herself, staring into the bright orange flames, the spirit of Bunyan soothing her soul as it had long done. 'Life is never boring with you, is it child of mine.'

And the spirits, that night around Bunyan, seemed to do a happy dance in response to Shelandragh May's statement, amused to have one of their favourites back in town, even for a night, as they danced and pranced and lived the life of the magical world, the faerie world, the spirit world, were Lucy Smith was one of their favourite, and most beloved, children.

Chapter Three

'So. You have accepted your fate, Lucy Smith. A witch no more?'

Lucy, in the kitchen of Daniel's place in Cooma North, were she, Daniel, Shelandragh and David were staying for a while, cut into the cucumber after she had peeled it, sliced it up into several slices, and added it to the salad, the final touches.

'Now, do you like French dressing?' she asked David.

'Ooh, lovely,' said David.

'Then I will get the French dressing.

She went to the fridge, returned with the bottle and poured some on. After buttering the bread rolls, she served up lunch and the three of them, Daniel out for the day on some sort of personal business, sat around the lounge, eating.

'Put on a CD, Shelly, please,' said Lucy.

'Ok.' Shelandragh went to the bookcase and looked over Daniel's collection. 'Very commercial tastes,' noted Shelandragh. 'Ooh. Just for a laugh.'

As Spinal Tap started playing in the background, David unable to stop smiling at some of the lyrics, Lucy looked at him.

'Yes, David. I have accepted my fate.'

David finished off a mouthful of salad, bit into his bread roll and, taking a sip of orange juice, gazed at her.

'Then you needn't worry any more. About the commission. Not for now. Not for a long, long time, Lucy Smith.'

Shelandragh looked right at David, putting down her fork. 'And what does that mean?'

David smiled at Shelandragh. 'God knows, Shelandragh May, your heart. Better than you do. God has always known. He knows what makes you tick, and your fascination with magical things. It is how he made you, after all. The problems with magic are not insurmountable, and to the heavenly realm there is a degree of tolerance for such behaviour, depending on the type of witchery involved. It is true, in time, in the goodness of God's good time, he does want you, in your own heart, to consider the issues of magic and morality, and too contemplate things which will be said to you. But he is no rush. He has had magicians for years, and, really, they are not going anywhere.'

'Which means?' asked Lucy Smith, anxiously.

'We don't want either of you to give up your passions. At least not yet. Not while your heart is still committed to such things at least, anyway. It is later on. Later on in eternity when, having considered your craft, you will reach conclusions of sorts. On things you have learned, and things said to you. And it is then, and only then, when in your heart you are ready to reach the conclusions that we have presented to you, that the commission you have received becomes something of merit for you to follow through with. But not yet. Not yet, dear Lucy Smith. It is too soon, and your magical brethren are only now starting to enjoy themselves and their freedoms they have so long desired. And God knows this. And God does love you anyway.'

'How long?' asked Shelandragh.

'The time is not really the issue. You will need, in the end to find that answer for yourself.'

'How long?' she persisted.

'Time immemorial, dear Shelandragh. And things will come to pass, and things will have been before, and you will still be witches. But later on, when you are older, you will find some things in your heart, seeds of the divine which have borne fruit, and you will be witches no more. But aeons will come and aeons will go before such truths come to the fore. But as for time? A trillion lifetimes may still not be enough, Shelandragh May. So fret not.'

Shelandragh looked at David, and for the first time in her life she knew the meaning of the words 'The Mercy of God.'

'Thank you, David Rothchild,' said Shelandragh May, and she came and hugged him, and there were two very happy witches that afternoon in the abode of Daniel Daly, Cherubim of God. Two very happy witches indeed.

'Daniel. Who is Kirstie Kolby?'

'Ok. I confess. Yes, I'm married. Half a dozen kids as well. There. I've got it off my chest.'

'Mmmm,' said Lucy. 'It doesn't surprise me. Mandy was always suspicious. Said she had found the name written down a few times in questionable circumstances.'

'God. Don't tell Mandy. She'll cast a spell on me. She doesn't have your virtues, you know. Wild child that girl.'

'Do you still see Mandy?' asked Lucy.

'Do you?' responded Daniel.

'Well, no. Not really.'

'There's your answer,' responded Daniel.

'Anyway. Kirstie Kolby. What's the story?'

'She lives in New York.' He was actually lying. 'I see her occasionally. The family is all over there. Doing great, from what I hear.'

'You devil,' smiled Lucy.

'Takes one to know one,' responded Daniel, tongue in cheek.

'Are there any other secrets I should know about?'

Daniel remained silent, but she saw the concerned look on his face.

'Out with it,' said Lucy.

'Lucy Smith. The comings and goings of the pastor of Haven Noahide Fellowship are his own concern. All members have always agreed on that.'

'What do you mean all members?'

'Oops,' he responded. 'Oh, ok. Back when you were young there was a fledgling fellowship of half a dozen or so. We had some meetings. They are all still around, and they have private keys to the fellowship hall. We arrange private meetings through email. Its not an officially registered public fellowship, ok. It never has been. Members like there privacy. Eventually, when we are big enough, we will indeed go mainstream. But not yet.'

'Jesus, Daniel. Are there any other of these little secrets?'

'When you need to know you will be told. Don't worry about it for now, ok.'

But she was full of curiousity.

Damien Bradlock was not a virgin. Very far from it, in fact. And while in his time the Devil himself had raped a fair number of blonde virgins, his particular favourite, there had been one particular girl, in his teens, who may have redeemed the irredeemable. His Josie. The Devil did not love easily. In fact many would say the Devil did not love at all. But the girl whose virginity he had first claimed, and who had claimed his, right in his high school days in Hull, were he had been brought up, he thought of often, these days. Long after her unfortunate death on a fishing accident when they were teens. He had killed the guy, even though it had been an accident, and was never the kids fault. A fellow student in school, not one Damien really objected to, but when the news came he was a dead man. Damien had conducted his first trance, and attempted to summon the devil. And then a dark lord of evil had appeared to him, almost laughed to death, if possible for a demon, and said 'You have got to be fucking kidding me. Summoning the Devil? You? For fuck's sake.'

That had started an affair with the darkness and slowly, gradually, he learned who he was and the meaning of the demon's words. He was the devil himself, anyway. The Dark Lord of Evil. And so he had killed the youth, been sent to jail when they caught him, which began the tirade of the worst business empire the world would ever see. The most hostile of hostile takeover tycoons.

But he remembered Josie, from time to time, and the genuine love they shared, in his days of innocence. When he, the devil, was not too evil. When, by most reports, he was a regular kid, doing regular things, even listening to Abba and the Beatles, and thought by many, with his excellent grades, a real prospect for the future. He was indeed that prospect. But of the worst kind imaginable.

His early business years were a typical success story for such as his kind, but the cops were always on his tail, never quite catching him, the most elusive of the Lords of Power if ever there was one. And in all his early business years, without yet formulating his concrete plans of world domination, Damien pursued his business ambitions with malice towards competitors, twisting the legal system with his money to suit his own purposes, aware of every loophole, and earning the reputation as Wall Street's most formidable foe.

And the Darvanius' were never far from earshot, both Alexander Darvanius I and ADII, as he liked to be called, dread Saruviel of Eternity, part of his long term ambitions of power, cruelty and damn sovereignty.

He was never a pleasant devil.

So, when it was announced that the child was just about to be born, Damien contacted his pawn Zoldarius, and arranged for the despised one Grimlock to seek out Lucy Smith, monitor her, and use the kidnapped child as a bargaining chip in the agenda of the dark power even the devil served to bring despair, meaningless and misery to the children of Adam and Eve. Just for the hell of it, Damien Bradlock was oft heard repeating. Just for the hell of it. And while some might wonder, given that even Satan once knew the heart of love, and feelings for a girl, that perhaps, just perhaps, he could show some mercy and pity to Lucy in her anxious days of expectancy. The Devil stayed true to his colours.

One of the common events to the children of men was childbirth. And Lucy Smith was no exception. When her time came she handled it bravely, gave birth to a lovely daughter, and was received back home triumphantly the following morning, the baby in good health.

Taking care of details the following day, Lucy asked for the birth certificate from Shelandragh. Miss May went to her handbag, fished out a form and handed the certificate back to Lucy, who smiled and looked at the birth papers, finally filled in.

'Oh,' she said. 'Shelandragh. I know I never filled in the application form, and left that to you. I guess I should have,' she said, somewhat apologetically, looking at Enrique.

'Huh, what gives?' asked the Dragonrider.

'Our daughter,' said Lucy. 'She's not a Lopes.'

Enrique took the certificate, looked at the name and smiled ironically, handing it back to a quizzical Shelandragh.

'Oh, bugger,' said Shelandragh, only now realizing her gaff. 'Oh, I am so, so sorry Enrique. I never thought. I, I, I..' she left off, very embarassed.

'It's ok,' said Lucy. 'It was an honest mistake.'

Lucy turned, to look at little Jenny sleeping in the crib. 'I guess young Jenny SMITH will just have to get used to my family name. Do you really mind Enrique?'

Enrique took Lucy in his arms, kissed her, and said, 'Wether a Lopes or a Smith, she is our child. And I love her just the same.'

And, so, the much anticipated celebration for Jenny Lopes did not eventuate that morning, and, instead, Jenny Smith, with a mysterious new destiny all of her own, slept soundly, not crying once, as a furious rain storm started that afternoon, washing away the recent dust storm, the child sleeping safely, comfortably & happily through it all.

David Smith had spent an untold lifetime, by a small creek, eating weeds and occasional purple flowers, lonely, bored, aging oh so slowly. He presumed, in his heart, that he would one day die and leave this abode and go - where? Heaven? That might be part of his faith, now. Maybe. But, with nothing better to do in the shadow-world, he tinkered most day on the machine with manifold cogs which, he swore to himself, was a mechanical transport device of some sorts.

And then it happened, after rising, eating some flowers, he sat in the main control seat, so he had imagined it to be, tried the next number combination in current plan he was working with, and got the shock of his life when he pressed the third of the red buttons, as he pressed them all after setting the 78 dials of numbers, and the machine came alive with activity. He sat there, hoping beyond all hope this was the end, but the machine just continued whirring.

'Finally getting somewhere,' he thought to himself. 'Finally.'

So, memorising the combinations just in case, he pushed the fourth green button and, in a blink, he was gone, vanished to who knows where.

Grimlock, in the end, only half-heartedly repented of his evil. Only half-heartedly. But it did come to the point, one afternoon, in front of his home in the mountains, near the stream, he whispered to God that he was sorry he was a sinner, and did not bother saying anything much after that. It was all the repentance he could muster.

And then Zoldarius had contacted him again, and he was off on the devil's business, in a fit of lust, and all thoughts of repentance were laid to rest at his flat, forgotten in the victory of dark glories.

Lucy sat nursing her daughter, on the front porch rocker, in a state of matriarchal bliss. Enrique was tinkering with the car, and they were family.

'How about a family photo?' she yelled to Enrique, who seemed to mumble something back which, Lucy taking as agreement, put little Jenny down into the baby basket, left her on the porch, sure Jenny would be fine, and went inside to retrieve her camera. When she found it she came back outside and down to Enrique, who had thought she said it was lunchtime, and smiled at him as they came up to the porch.

'Did you put Jenny inside?' he asked Lucy, for the basket was empty.

Lucy looked at the empty basket, and then at her man, and the sudden outburst of screaming over a missing baby didn't stop that afternoon.

'Brat,' said Zoldarius, looking at little Jenny Smith, who had finally stopped crying. The last three days of crying, returning home, finally abating only now. He fed it, changed its nappies, and did a somewhat job in keeping it entertained, even reading from magic books to the child.

'Perhaps I should keep you? Raise you as my own?' he said to the child, who just stared back with innocent animated eyes.

'Humph,' he said to himself. Grimlock a daddy.

Still, that wouldn't likely happen. All too soon the final confrontation would come. They would wrangle Lucy's choice out of her one way or another, and the power of the dark magic would finally get the answer it had long waited upon.

'Well, are you coming?' Damien Bradlock asked Alexander Darvanius II, in the Alex's London skyscraper. Alexander looked at Damien and sighed. 'Its not the time, Damien. Its fruitless to even bother. You can't cheat destiny. It will make its decision when it will make its decision. And the time is not yet.'

'Fuck Destiny,' said the Devil. 'Are you coming or not.' Alexander sighed, got to his feet, and as they started the journey to Cooma, for the final confrontation of the Dark Lords of Evil with the witch-child Lucy Smith, Alexander knew it would end in no good. No good at all.

Grimlock stood with Jenny in his arms. Lucy wanted to rush out, but Enrique held her back. Shelandragh stood next to them, and Daniel Daly stood behind, watching nervously. This was not his fight - he was hardly armed with the power of magic.

They had goaded them just a few minutes earlier, to come out and face them, and standing on the front lawn of the Smith abode, late Sunday night, the Dark Lords of evil almost looked a comical force, attempting to twist a judgement from Lucy Smith - the ultimate choice of destiny she must make - perhaps just a little too soon.

'We are outnumbered, Lucy,' said Shelandragh.

And then Lucifer Malfoy stepped out of the shadows and Lucy said 'I think we're fucked, Shelly.'

Lucy Smith, Shelandragh May, Enrique Lopes and a very reluctant Daniel Daly stood there, facing the Dark Lords of

Evil, Alexander Darvanius, the cretin Grimlock, holding her child, the repulsive Lucifer Malfoy, Zoldarius, and the worst of the lot, Damien Bradlock.

'Alexander,' said Shelandragh. 'I didn't think it would come to this.'

Alexander seemed dismissive. 'This is not my idea, Shelandragh May. I will not interfere. Yet... Yet if Lucy would make her choice. If now, then I would listen.'

Shelandragh looked at Lucy. 'Do you remember, Lucy. That tale I told you once. About a child. A witch. With a special choice in a contract of heaven?'

Lucy did not even look at Shelandragh, but didn't need to even answer Shelandragh. She had known those secret truths herself, for some time now. She didn't need to be told.

'Alexander. Whatever choice you think I need to make. I won't. Not now.'

Suddenly, a white glowing fireball permeated the scene and struck Alexander on the chest, who fainted back, and fell to the dirt, although it did not seem fatal.

And then a man appeared, who looked and felt strangely familiar to Lucy Smith, and confronted Damien Bradlock. Shelandragh immediately rushed down to help the man, while Lucifer jumped up to confront Enrique and Lucy.

Daniel looked at Grimlock. He had an idea.

Shelandragh, wand raised, glared at Damien, who indeed grinned like the Devil.

'Who are you?' She asked the man.

'Don't you know, Shelandragh?'

And Shelandragh turned, and slowly, recognizing his face, said, 'David. David Smith.'

David smiled, then a lightning bolt crackled between them and they returned to face their foe.

Lucifer scowled at Lucy. 'Come child. Perhaps we could have some more fun. Like the good old days.'

'Your sick Lucifer!' shouted Lucy.

Enrique did his best to stand between Lucifer and Lucy, but knew if they started hurling magic bolts at each other he was a dead man.

'I hate to say this, Enrique. And I don't doubt your manhood. But perhaps if you stand behind me,' said Lucy, raising her wand.

Enrique, albeit reluctantly agreed.

'Come now, Shelandragh May. Let the witch make her decision.'

Damien stood there, Zoldarius next to him, grinning madly. He hurled another bolt at her, but she ussed a magic shield.

Zoldarius glared at David. 'My old enemy. Did you enjoy the shadows?'

David pointed his wand and unleashed a fury of flames at Zoldarius, who just surrounded himself with a veil of blue energy.

'You suck, Lucifer,' said Lucy, and hurled a bolt of energy at her. He dodged it, but when Lucy whispered 'watch' to Enrique, the dragonrider was amused when the bolt looped back and hit Lucifer in the back of his head, whose eyes glazed over, and then fell down unconscious on to the porch.

'Is he dead?' Enrique asked.

'I wish,' said Lucy.

Damien noted that Lucifer had fallen, but was not perturbed.

'Let her choose,' said Damien to Shelandragh. 'And you can have your child returned.'

Just then Daniel yelled in triumph, 'I have Jenny.' He was standing beside a slumped to the ground Grimlock, holdind a cricket bat in his hand. A just used cricket back.

'Thank God,' yelled Lucy.

Damien glared in hatred, and threw another bolt of energy at Shelandragh, who put the shield up again.

'Its over,' said David to the Dark Lords. 'Leave, now. We don't need this to go any further. That choice, which I also know of, is for another time. It is not for now, dark nemesis. And a stronger power than even you rules over destiny.'

'Bah,' said Damien and, throwing one last bolt of energy at Shelandragh, who raised her shield again, retreated away, Zoldarius backing off with him, but who turned to David and said,

'We will meet again, David Smith. Believe me, we will meet again.'

And then they were gone, off in the night, off to their own, dark, domains.

Lucy looked at the three figures, tied with a rope, a spell of holding placed over them.

'You suck, Lucy Smith,' muttered Lucifer.

'I didn't think this was necessary,' said Alexander.

Grimlock didn't say anything, but just looked miserable.

'What do we do with them?' Daniel asked.

Lucy looked at Shelandragh. 'Perhaps the oldest but the best answer to the likes of Lucifer Malfoy.'

And raising her wand, she yelled 'Relocate,' and the dark lords were gone, off to who knows where, this final and terrible confrontation, at last, dealt with.

Well, all things worked out for good thereafter in the life of Lucy Smith. The Dark Lords bothered her not again, for there was no longer any point in tempting fate, for they had another battle to fight, in the form of other soldiers of heaven in a judgement day soon impending. The fate of Lucifer Malfoy, though, in the immediate sense, was an ironic return to Azkabahn, a familiar looking prison cell, and the mocking laughter of irony from a familiar looking prison guard.

'Life really did suck,' Lucifer scowled, eating up his crusty bread and water.

Grimlock eventually found a boat near the shore of Antarctica, where he had been relocated to, and getting back to South America first, he eventually found his way home.

Darvanius ended up deep in the Sahara desert, fortunately found water, and eventually found a tribesman to guide him out of the hottest place on earth.

Yet, as for Lucy Smith, she and her father David were finally reconciled. There were tears of joy, tears of laughter, taers of sorrow over Caroline, who had gone to the grave, but most of all, tears of love. Most definitely love.

Lucy's life, finally, once and for all, got back to normal, and while a final fateful choice yet remained, Lucy did her best, raising young Jenny, to not let the things of Destiny disturb her happiness.

Yes, in the end, Lucy Smith found happiness. And while the dark lords of evil, may, in truth, inevitably return one day, the saga of the life of Lucy Smith, child of heaven, special child of destiny, for now, is complete.

Alleluia

Alleluia

Alleluia

All Glory to God Most High

And Peace to his People on Earth

Alleluia

Amen

And Amen.

THE END

The Oraphim Sandalphon

"The Heart of Leopold Bradlock"

Chapter One

6008 SC (2038 AD)

'Leopold Bradlock. Do you really love me Leopold Bradlock?' 'Look, Jane. I didn't traipse half way around the world to see you for nothing. Of course I love you. But the question is do you love me? I still remember, you know. The way you look at my father when mother is not around. I still think you have something for him.' Jane Talbourne turned away, too embarrassed to say anything. Eventually she turned to look at Leo. 'Well, what have you been doing in New Zealand then? Making a good living I hope.' Leo smiled. That was just like Jane – to change the subject when pushed. But he would let it go. 'Yeh, dad and I are in business together now. We own a chain of 3 comic stores in Auckland, Wellington and Christchurch. The Dragon's lair comics and collectables. Doing bloody good business as well.' 'Comics? Why comics? That doesn't sound like Callodyn.' 'No, not really. Me neither. He went to a comic convention and saw the kinds of prices they can go for after only a few years if it is a key issue. He started collecting them for a few years and began reading the various magazines on the subject. And business is now doing well. Big opportunities if you know the right price to sell the product at and if you know your key target audience.' Jane nodded. At least they were doing well financially by the looks of it. 'So why have you chased me down, Leo. Seriously, I want to know.' 'Brax asked me to. Told me you were connected to the family, now, and wanted you taken care of.' Jane looked at him, slightly puzzled. 'Brax?' Leo looked at her, and decided to share something of his recent adventures. 'Brax works for Alexander Darvanius and his son Alexander Darvanius II. I think he is Alexander I's son in some sort of way. Illegitimate I think.' 'Alexander Darvanius!' exclaimed Jane. 'You can not be serious. Do you know just how many shady connections there are to that name? I have been researching him for ages now and he is trying to rule the world as far as I am concerned.' 'Believe me, Jane, they know all about you and your research. It doesn't bother them. They say you misunderstand the family and its intentions. Quite honorable they maintain.' 'Well I know people who would say otherwise, Leo. Who would definitely say otherwise.' 'And who are they?' asked Leo. Jane thought about that and decided to share what she knew. 'James. James Castleton and a friend of his, June Middlesworth. They were involved in a number of situations with the Darvanius clan and James nearly died once because of it. They watched James for years before leaving him alone.' 'Well, I don't really know what that is all about, Jane. But they have been nothing but friendly to our family. Look, yeah, I know. At first they just watched us and we were worried a lot. That might be what James was going through. But they started talking to us and sharing a little of their vision for the future with us. I think if this James fellow got to know them a little bit better he would have less concerns. I mean they have helped us out a lot. Brax gave father a cheque for $500,000 New Zealand dollars – simply a gift from the Darvanius foundation to family.' 'And exactly how are they family?' 'Dad is a Bradlock. There are strong connections with a John Bradlock and his son Damien Bradlock. Alexander II knows them well. They are part of the Alpha Gamma Delta corporation.' 'Oh. So Callodyn is related to this John Bradlock, is he?' 'Something like that. I was not told the official story, but they are apparently family in some way.' Jane took in this information. It somewhat allayed her fears about Alexander Darvanius and his son. Perhaps they were just misunderstood. But she still had suspicions.

They chatted on that afternoon sitting in a Crossden café near the social security office. Later they took a walk through Crossden visiting the old neighbourhood and they came back to the Talbourne family home were Jane lived again. Leo enjoyed catching up with David and Samantha and the four of them chatted about old times. Jane asked Leo if he wanted to stay the night, to which he agreed, declaring that he was in town for a few weeks anyway. Primarily to catch up with Jane for he had things he wanted to discuss with her. Personal things.

Chapter Two

6008 SC (2038 AD)

They walked along the edge of the oval, watching the juniors play a traditional game of cricket, Leo taking minor interest. 'So really, nothing serious, huh?' 'Not really, Leo. No major boyfriends. A few flirts, a tiny bit of romance, but nothing to write home about, if you know what I mean.' 'That is basically my story as well.' 'So is that it, then? You have finally come home to claim your girl?' Leo looked at her, smiled a little and put up his hand to brush a curl of her hair from her face. 'Why else, Jane? Why else? Unless you are in love with my father, that is?' Jane grabbed his hand and, deciding not to answer, caused them to both sit down and turned his hand over. 'Let me tell you your fortune,' she said smiling. They both looked down at his hand.

'Your life line says you will live for millions of years. Millions and millions of years.' He smiled. She was being very kind. 'And children. My God, more than King David.' 'Really, Jane. And just how many.' 'Too many, believe me.' 'And does the hand say anything about the mother of all those children?' Jane looked at him, still holding his hand. 'Just that she is beautiful, Leo. Beautiful and that she loves you.' Leo nodded. He hoped so. 'Well, how rich will I be?' Jane giggled and returned her focus to the hand. 'Oh, wealthy beyond your wildest imagination.' 'Oh, I can imagine a lot,' replied Leopold. 'Well wealthier beyond even that,' smirked Jane. 'Let's hope so,' responded Leo.

The continued carousing most of that afternoon and around 4 found themselves in the café again, Leo reflecting on some of his recent history. 'Well, we started slow in New Zealand. Mum gained work as a receptionist and Dad worked as a fisherman for some time. Bloody hard work he always tells me. We started in Christchurch, but later moved to Auckland were we still are. And now we have the comic business and are making a small fortune every year. A big eBay business as well.' Jane nodded. 'And how did the Darvanius family come into it?' 'Well, dad noticed Brax watching him every now and then in Christchurch. And then when we moved to Auckland he followed us. Dad was nervous often, but eventually Brax disclosed his reasons for following us.' 'And those reasons were?' inquired Jane. 'Like I told you. Family connections. Apparently John Bradlock is from Hull were dad comes from. I think John actually might be my grandfather, but dad doesn't confirm that. Damien Bradlock is definitely John's son, so I guess dad and Damien are probably brothers. That seems to be the connection.' 'And how does the Darvanius family come into this?' 'Very old family ties between the Bradlock's and the Darvanius. They go back in centuries together in business. From what Brax has subtley alluded to, both families are members of the Illuminati.' Jane nodded. 'I could have told you that about the Darvanius family. A suspicion of mine for quite some time.' Leo nodded. 'So you have studied Alexander huh? Anything I should know?' 'Just to be careful about them. Very careful. I have fears – biblical fears – about that family.' Leo looked at her, slightly puzzled. 'Your not religious are you, Jane. I don't recall that being much of an issue to you.' 'Oh, you know. Things change.' 'And how exactly does the Darvanius family figure into that?' Jane looked at him but thought better about answering. Perhaps there were things best not shared. Best not shared until absolutely necessary. She stood and motioned to him they were leaving. She purchased a soft drink and as they started walking back to her house Jane decided to speak. 'Leo. Do you believe in God?' Leo looked at her strangely for a few moments, and turned away. 'No. I mean, well yes, I guess. I suppose there is a higher power. But I don't have any faith in it. Not part of my life. Why do you ask?' 'Well I do, now, Leo. A great deal. And I believe in the Bible as well, especially the prophetical sections.' Leo nodded, not really interested in a religious discussion, but putting up with it for Jane's sake.' So what has that got to do with the Darvanius family?' Jane looked at him and turned her head away. 'Well that is the question, isn't it Leopold Bradlock.' Leo gave her a funny look, but just walked on.

Chapter Three

6008 SC (2038 AD)

Jane looked at the cheque in her hand. It was for ₤100,000. '100,000 pounds! Exclaimed Jane. You can not be serious. And this is a gift? From Brax?' 'From the Darvanius family, actually. They know you have been close to Callodyn and myself – best friends in a sense – and they want you to be taken care of. Apparently, if you are ever in real need, you should let them know and they will help you out.' Jane looked at Leo. She was suspicious – very suspicious. But the sheer weight of a cheque for 100,000 British pounds really did have persuasive power. And now she was caught in two minds. Certainly, she had all sorts of convictions about the Darvanius family. But what proof did she ultimately have? And with a cheque for 100,000 British pounds tempting her, it was very difficult for her to now say no to the family. She stared at the cheque, undecided. And then a little voice in the back of her mind said this. 'Do not worry about it. Their family loves you.' And so Jane, despite thinking she should perhaps no better, folded the cheque in half and put it in her handbag.

Trying her best that afternoon as they cruised around Crossden, taking in the sights, Jane could not help but thinking what she could spend the money on. And later on that night, looking at the cheque, she reflected on one basic thing. She was still a kid at heart and a big cheque made anyone smile.

The following day, Monday, Jane was due for school in her teaching position, but rang up telling the school she would be sick for the week and to call the fill in teacher. The secretary wished her to get well soon and Leopold suggested they travel down to London for a week. 'Oh, can we go and see Lucy in 'The Phantom of the Opera'. She is in the starring role. She is doing so well for herself now. So well.' Lucy Bridges was an old friend of Callodyn's and Rachel's who had now found success as an actress on the London stage. She had starred in a number of British movies, not yet tempted to try her luck in Hollywood. She visited Jane from time to time in Crossden and Jane thought it the perfect opportunity to visit her friend in London with Leo tagging along. Leo agreed to the idea and after renting a car they began the trip down to London.

As they drove from Crossden, heading east to England and then along the highway down to London, Jane looked out over the countryside. Green, ever green seemingly, was England, just like Wales. As a nation they were blessed with abundant rainfall and always lived an idyllic lifestyle. But it was a colder nation, compared to Australia from what Rachel had once told her, but it was all Jane had really ever known.

As they drove down Jane thought she might cash the cheque with her bank when she got to London. It was a blank cheque and wouldn't take too long to clear. Thinking over all the wonderful stores in the high end of London she wondered just what she would buy herself.

They stopped just north of London, having drove most of the day, and had a late lunch in a lovely English Inn. Jane enjoyed the steak and kidney pie and Leo was enjoying his warm beer. He had a little too much to drink that afternoon and Jane suggested they stay in the town for the night, to which Leo agreed. She went off for a walk in the town after they had settled into the inn which had accommodation, and Jane found herself standing in front of her bank. She took the cheque out of her hand and sat down on a bench in front of the bank, just looking at it. She had convictions. Many convictions. So much of her was telling her simply to cash the cheque and not worry about it. But part of her was asking her this, 'Do you want to be a hypocrite? Taking money from the Darvanius family to buy you off? You know what they stand for?' But despite thinking in the end that she should know better, eventually walked into the bank and deposited the cheque. She could be wrong about the Darvanius family in the end, couldn't she? And that money looked awfully attractive.

Chapter Four

6008 SC (2038 AD)

'So how long have you and Tommy been married?' Jane asked Lucy. 'About 2 years now. Oh, we were girlfriend and boyfriend on and off for years, but I eventually came to London and the relationship disappeared somewhat. But he tracked me down three years ago and after dating we married. So I am Mrs Anderson now, and ever so happy to be.' Jane thought on Lucy's tale. Lucy had married her first boyfriend, the one who had taken her virginally. She thought on her own virginity and the hope she once had that Leopold would be the first to take it. Perhaps, even now, with Leopold in her very presence, such a thing might soon become a reality. Although Leo had made no moves on her she could not help but notice his stare from time to time. Perhaps, even sooner than expected, he might be the one.

'Well, you were excellent tonight Lucy.' 'Thanks Leo. I am glad you two came. We have been having sell-out performances for a while now, but there are always a few tickets left for the people to show up on the night.' 'If the price is right,' commented Leo sarcastically. 'No, they don't come cheap,' admitted Lucy.

Lucy invited them to a late supper with some of the cast at a nearby all-night café they regularly frequented. All that evening Jane and Leo learned much of the life of Lucy Bridges especially the most surprising news of all. Lucy had actually worked for the Darvanius family in New York a number of years previously. She then disclosed very personal details about her relationship with Alexander Darvanius II. Taking in the news Jane was not really surprised. 'He is a lion,' said Lucy. 'Alexander is a young Lion, ready to devour all who would oppose him. He thinks of himself as the true King of this human jungle, ready to kill all adversaries. And believe me, when he is dressed in black and when those eyes look at you, you feel his power. As if he is born beyond human men in some way.' Jane nodded, taking all of that information in. It sounded like the Alexander Darvanius her and June had talked about. The one she expected to one day rule the world. 'Oh, yes,' continued Lucy. 'He thinks he will rule the world one day. Absolutely convinced of it.' Jane nodded. What a thing to just say, she thought to herself.

Later on Leo and Jane had found a hotel near the theatre and were in separate beds in a two bed bedroom. Leo came out of the bathroom, pyjama pants on, but no top on. He was half naked, his chest muscles rippling in front of her. She looked on anxiously and noted how Leo looked a little somewhat like his father. But only a little. They were generally quite different in most respects. But she couldn't help but think of Callodyn as she was staring at his son, her once best friend.

Leo looked at her, noticing how she was looking at him. And it dawned on him to ask the question. 'Jane. Well, you know. Jane.' 'What?' she asked nervously. He came down and sat next to her on her bed. He took her hand and spoke softly to her. 'You know I love you, Jane. I will always love you. Always.' Jane looked downwards. Somehow she knew that in all eternity before her that statement had always and would always remain true. He continued. 'If you want romance tonight. If you want some of the pleasure of the flesh, well, I am happy to oblige. I guess it is the real reason I came to see you. Apart from delivering the cheque I wanted to know if something might happen between us. Oh, there have been girls in New Zealand. But nothing serious. Nothing serious yet. But you are still important to me. And I guess if there is any girl in the Heart of Leopold Bradlock, it is probably yourself Jane Talbourne.' Jane nodded. She appreciated his words and looking at him and realizing that perhaps no other should take her in the way she desired, she nodded to him. She watched him undress and when he stood before her naked, she looked at his manhood. She beckoned him towards her and, slowly, and passionately, she gave herself to the one who had claimed her like no other.

Chapter Five

6008 SC (2038 AD)

Leo looked at the news. 'Another announcement from that Taheb figure,' he commented to Jane. 'He is starting to become very popular.' Jane nodded. 'Some think he is a messianic figure. Supposedly the first messianic redeemer as he represents the Torah of the Samaritan community,' she replied. 'First messianic redeemer? You mean there are others?' 'From some certain theological perspectives. Next comes the traditional Jewish view on the messiah. The 'David' figure that Judah hopes for?' 'Judah?' queried Leo. 'Ok, the Torah is the first five books of the bible. The Samaritans hold to the torah alone and the Taheb represents the Samaritan community and the Samaritans, according to their doctrine, represent the northern kingdom of Israel. Thus he represents the first messianic redeemer at the end of days.' Leo nodded, understanding seemingly apparent. 'Next comes the southern kingdom of Judah's representative. The traditional Jewish Messiah, David. David speaks for the Samaritan community first and foremost, acknowledging the importance and the pre-eminence of the Torah. But then he goes on to talk of the importance of the remainder of the Jewish Bible, known as the Tenakh. It is from the remainder of the Tenakh that the Judahic messiah, son of David, comes forth.' 'And what about Jesus?' asked Leo, curiousity aroused. 'Jews reject Jesus,' said Jane, 'and consistently maintain no biblical basis for his ministry. 'And the response,' asked Leo. 'Well, my position is that Jesus Christ represents reality. Truth and reality. Jesus went forth and did the actual hard work of winning the gentile nations to God's kingdom. In the practical sense he did the real work. So I believe, personally, revelation will be fulfilled in the figure of Jesus. Don't get me wrong. Israel has always by and large objected to Christian faith, and I 100% agree with them on their valid points of objection. But Jesus will be Christ in the end, in a way not expected of by Israel.' 'So he is the third messiah, is he?' asked Leo, taking an interest. 'Sort of, yes. I guess so. But why do you ask, Leo? What interests you in this? I thought you were spectacularly uninterested in this sort of thing?' Leo considered that before responding. 'Well, uh. Not really uninterested. It just had never really mattered much before. But what you are talking about sounds really interesting. I mean, I guess I believe in God. But religion had never meant much. But these 'Messiah' beliefs, now that we have a 'Taheb' figure prancing about… Well it sounds interesting. Something to try and understand.' Jane nodded. This was actually quite good, she thought to herself. She enjoyed sharing the gospel as it gave meaning to her life. Now, for Leo to take an interest. Well it seemed as if all her studies might now actually mean something.

'I actually have a lot that I could say about all of this, Leo. That is, if you are interested.' He nodded. 'Yes, very. Not right at this moment, mind you. But yeah. I want to learn more.' Jane nodded, quite happy.

Later on that day as they toured around inner London, visiting the London Bridge, Jane was quietly buzzing. She felt in some ways like a woman now. It had gone from her now and she had joined an important club. Now, silently, she was hoping that Leopold would make an honest woman of her. That seemed to be the next logical step.

Chapter Six

6008 SC (2038 AD)

'Hey, Jane. Look at this map. It shows the three divisions of ancient Palestine in the time of Jesus. Three divisions, exactly as you said about three messiah. Judea in the south, Samaria in the centre and Galilee in the north.' Jane looked at the map and nodded to him. 'So let me get this right. The Taheb is the messianic figure which represents Samaria. The Samaritan people.' 'Yes,' said Jane. 'He is the one they have long expected. 'And for Judah,' continued Leo, 'they have long expected a 'David' figure.' 'That they have, Leo. It is why they never accepted Jesus as the Christ.' 'But isn't Jesus from Galilee.' Jane looked at him, smiling. 'In fact, Leo. The Jesus seminar consistently teaches that Jesus was probably born in Nazareth and not in Bethlehem. Historical Jesus studies conclude that.' 'Which means, then, he is the Christ of Galilee. The ruler over the third northern-most division of Palestine.' Jane smiled. It was exactly the theology she had concluded herself. 'Yes, that he is Leopold. The third messiah in a sense. I mean, there will never be another Galilean as popular as Jesus. That is for certain. He is the ruler for Galilee. I have no doubts on that.' Leo nodded, continuing to stare at the map in the New Testament Bible he had purchased that morning.

That afternoon they began their drive back to Crossden. Jane noticed that all throughout the trip Leo was reading through the Bible he had brought, fascinated by its teaching seemingly. 'Didn't Callodyn teach you scripture going up?' she asked him innocently. He once shared with me that he read the Torah a lot. 'Uh, yeh,' responded Leo. 'I know dad read it a lot, but not much around us. And he never tried to raise me with any specific religious values. I think he wanted me to find my own way on that issue.' Oh, responded Jane, now understanding. 'Did you ever see him pray?' 'Once. Late at night when Rebecca was unwell. I heard him pray to God the father to heal her. And she got well a few days later.' Jane smiled. It did seem Callodyn was a man of faith, which made her glad.

Arriving back in Crossden Leo returned Jane to her house and said, 'I will be staying at the Red Boar for a few days. I want to read through some more of this book, but I will drop around in the morning. We can spend the rest of your time off just hanging around.' 'That would be great,' said Jane. Nervously she leant forward and kissed him on the cheek. 'I love you, Leo,' she said, hoping for a similar response. He looked at her, smiled and left. She was a little disappointed but hoped perhaps next time he would say what she wanted to hear.

That night she went through the family paper on the announcement of the Taheb. He had announced that mankind had a special destiny in the heart of God and that it was now time to turn to their heavenly father in acts of charity and repentance. She felt he sounded like a papal figure somewhat now, which is how he seemed to be currently appreciated by many. She thought on his words spoken and felt them laced with ancient wisdom. If he was indeed the first messianic redeemer which June and James also talked of then he was destined to live, apparently, 400 years. In that time he could certainly have a great impact on mankind. Time would only tell.

Chapter Seven

6008 SC (2038 AD)

David was heartbroken. Completely and utterly heartbroken. His beloved had chosen another. Robert Davies had won her, in the end, and David Rothchild was a broken-hearted man. Currently he was in Cardiff at an international Law convention relating to quarantine law. David worked in the Legal section of the Australian Quarantine and Inspection Service, as he had done for a number of years. Just recently he had been on leave up in Sydney with Justine Atkinson. But Justine had now chosen Robert and David was crushed. That afternoon, thinking he could not stomach another seminar, he took the car he had rented with his international drivers license and drove. He just drove, northwards, not caring were he was going, but just wanting to take this lost highway and escape to nowhere.

A few hours later he spied a sign of the town he was coming into. 'Crossden.' 'This will do,' he thought to himself. A good as place as any to spend the night. He found a pub called 'The Red Boar' and decided that looked as good a place as any to spend the night.

Standing in the shower, water rushing down on him, David sensed something about this town. Someone lived here – someone important. Someone he should have known in some way. He did not know why he felt this feeling, but it was all around him, everywhere for a few minutes. And then it diminished but he couldn't help but think divine things had touched him.

The following morning at the pub breakfast table he spied a man on his table reading a Bible. He decided to say hello just for the sake of it as he always enjoyed biblical conversations. 'What are you reading there, friend,' he began. Leopold turned to him and, just then, it seemed as if a golden halo was surrounding this person, but it quickly disappeared. 'Uh, just the bible mate. I have been reading it a lot over the last day or so. Really interesting now.' David nodded. Perhaps God was in the process of making a new convert, he thought to himself. Perhaps this was in fact why God had brought him to this town, of all places.

'My name is David. David Rothchild.' Leo turned to him then, mildly stunned. He knew the Rothchild name well now, for his mother Rachel was of that family and he was half a Rothchild. 'You have to be kidding me. My mother Rachel is a Rothchild.' David looked at him just then, and suddenly made the connection of were the name 'Crossden' rang a bell from. 'Rachel? Is she related to an Alexander Rothchild?' Leo looked at him. 'I have an Uncle Alexander. My grandfather Jonathon's brother.' David continued. 'Did they have a brother called Frederick, and was their father David?' Leo nodded. David smiled – this was his cousin. 'I am David. Alexander is my father. We live in Canberra.' Leo nodded. 'Yes, that is were Alexander lives. I haven't seen him since I was tiny, but I know he lives in Canberra.' 'So we are sort of cousins, then. Second cousins.' 'Small world, aint it,' said Leo. David nodded at that comment.

They chatted all that day and into the night, dropping around to Jane and then visiting Leo's grandmother Celia. 'The rest of the clan are up in Beltingham, but we will go and visit Uncle Jeremy tomorrow if you can stay.' David nodded. He was cheered up, somewhat now. He had met close family. Family he had known about but had never really had the opportunity to go and meet. And in the consolation of family somehow the loss of Justine Atkinson was being smoothed away. At least he felt somewhat better, and for that he was grateful.

Chapter Eight

6008 SC (2038 AD)

Jane, sitting with Leopold, was somewhat surprised. It was Friday. Late yesterday David had left, Leo's cousin, and Leo had been in a cheerful mood. But it was something else. Something rather than just meeting his cousin David. Leo had in some ways, changed. All the time Jane had known Leopold Bradlock there had been an edge to him. A dark edge. Certainly he was a positive and friendly person, as Callodyn likewise was. But there was an edge to him. An edge of darkness which sometimes occasionally had frightened her. But now, sitting with Leo at the Red Boar eating breakfast, it seemed as if that dark edge had disappeared. At least for the moment.

'So why are you in such a good mood, Leopold Bradlock.' Leo smiled at the question as he was slowly devouring his breakfast of bacon, eggs and fried tomatoes. 'I can't really say, Jane Talbourne. I can't really say. But it as if in the last few days a weight has been removed from my shoulders. A weight I had never really known was there, but which is somehow gone. And I feel new, again. Renewed almost. Like someone has come along and hit my 'refresh' button. 'Sprayed you with the toxin of life, huh?' She asked, curious. 'Something like that,' responded Leo. Jane, taking a bite of a hash-brown, staring at him, had her secret convictions into the change in Leopold Bradlock. It had happened to her to, when she first got involved in biblical things. It was if, after reading the bible, connections were made. Divine connections. Almost as if God had suddenly taken an interest in your life and was now in the process of redeeming you. This, of course, was a traditional view. But it seemed true enough to Jane Talbourne.

'Well, what do you want to do today, Leopold? What shall we possibly on earth get up to.' Leopold smiled while he was looking at her, formulating an answer. 'Go were the wind takes us, I guess.' She smiled. It was a good answer.

They spent the day walking around Crossden, visiting childhood haunts. That evening they were at his grandmothers 'Celia's' for dinner. She was getting on a bit now, but still retained an elusive youthful essence. Celia had delighted in David's visit, ever so pleased to meet Alexander's boy. She was now talking about possibly visiting Canberra to see Alex, funds permitting. Leo told her he would help out and Celia smiled.

That night, returning to the Red Boar, Jane subtley, in a womanly way, inquired wether Leo would like company for the night. But he refused her. 'But tomorrow I would like to see you early. I have something important to say to you, okay. I will be around at about 8. And I will take you somewhere special.' Jane nodded, anticipation high.

Returning home Jane thought, in the way many women often thought, that this might be it. The big question. What would she say? But of course, she would say yes. Really, there was nobody else suitable enough. So if Leo finally asked the big question she would assent and make her his wife.

Chapter Nine

6008 SC (2038 AD)

'I think, perhaps, there are words you wanted to hear. And I do love you, Jane. I do love you. And under the best of circumstances I would have asked you to be my wife.' Jane was smiling at Leo, sitting at the old railroads they had often frequented as children. 'But,' she said. 'There sounds like there is a 'but' in there somewhere.' Leo nodded. 'Yes, there is a but. I don't know what it is. I really don't. But it is as if there is something saying to me, no Leo. It wouldn't be quite right. As if you are a friend, and even occasional lover. But in terms of marriage, well, it is not meant to be.' Jane looked at him, and looked downwards. She was disappointed. Quite disappointed. But if that was the heart of Leopold Bradlock, then so be it. 'Ok Leo. I can't really claim to understand your wisdom, but I will accept your choice. I guess it was never meant to be. Never meant to be that personal.' 'That is sort of what I feel, Jane. That it was never meant to be that personal. We are close friends, and always will be. But it is as if there is someone else, someone closer to you, that I shouldn't interfere with. As if this person already has a prior claim on you.' 'And who would that be, Leopold Bradlock?' 'I don't know Jane. But someone important, that is all I can say.'

She cried a little that morning, walking back to her home with Leo walking a little ahead to give her some privacy. He had broken her heart somewhat. Of course she knew that she had a place in the heart of Leopold Bradlock. But apparently that heart was holding out for someone else. Maybe it was just an excuse he had, saying there was another for herself. Perhaps it was just an excuse. But perhaps there was another, as Leo had maintained. Someone she was destined to meet one day, if she had not met him already.

Later that night, Leo having left for Cardiff and his flight home, Jane sat in her front living room reading the bible. She had just read Corinthians 13, the love chapter, and thought of God's love for her. Perhaps the father of Glory had someone special planned for her. Someone special, perfectly made for Jane Talbourne. Someone to fit the bill for her exact desires. And perhaps, one day, she would meet this perfect man. Perhaps it was just all in God's good time. Perhaps that was all it was.

Chapter Ten

6008 SC (2038 AD)

What was in the heart of Leopold Bradlock? Leo thought on that very thought as the plane was nearing New Zealand. For so long he had assumed Jane Talbourne would, one day, be the love of his life. As if they were destined to be together. But in truth his heart had been taught for a while now that Jane belonged to someone else. And that marrying her would be interfering in another person's love life. And so he would not marry her. He would leave her be to find the love of her life in her own time. Besides, he was now more interested in his studies. His biblical studies of all things. And the focus was the book of Revelation. It fascinated him right at the moment. If this was supposedly the word of God he wanted to do his best to try and understand the hidden meanings and riddles of this most strange prophecy. Its language was complex and he had no idea what half of it meant. But something in him was compelling him to study it. To nut out its riddles and mystery and to understand just what it all meant. Perhaps, in truth, for the heart of Leopold Bradlock, this current mystery would unlock the many secrets of his hearts life. Perhaps this would be the start of a brand new journey. Perhaps.

THE END

The Ketravim's

'Jonathon and Lucinda'

6,060 SC

2,090 AD/CE

Jonathon fancied himself a theologian, if that really was the word for it. He was a kiwi, and proud of it, a member of the Wellington 'Haven Noahide Fellowship', which had 3 members in New Zealand, himself being the only Wellington based member. Worldwide it was not a huge fellowship, not at all. But it was united to a degree and the head pastor in Canberra, Australia, Daniel Daly, seemed to know what he was talking about on spiritual matters, and seemed to minister with a degree of both positive justice and merciful grace. He stressed, in fact, in his emails that these were chief qualities which God employed with mankind. 'Be in the Hearts of Men', he stated to the fellowship often, something which he had stated Jehovah himself had said to him in a waking dream. The other 'Word' from God he claimed he had received was that it was his responsibility to build Haven Noahide Fellowship on 'My Rock' which was Israel, according to God's personal revelation. Apparently his exact words to Daniel in the dream were 'Build on My Rock' with the impression directly given to his mind that Israel was his rock. Mr Daly took this seriously, realizing that Israel had kept faith in the covenant of Noah, by and large, when nobody else had. When nobody else cared about it. And because of this the fellowship had service to Israel for a long time, a lengthy amount of work of promoting Israel also as God's chosen people, and being kind and good-hearted towards them. To apply both words he had received from God in this sense 'Place Israel in the hearts of Men', which would hopefully please God, who apparently loved his Son Israel.

Yet Mr Daly also taught this truth for Haven Noahide Fellowship – 'Ultimately, in some ways, we have a responsibility towards being even holier than Israel. Of being more of the 'Family Heart' of mankind, as we are Noahide only, not based on latter covenants. As such, in a sense Israel builds on us as their covenant is built on the Noahide Covenant of the Rainbow. 'And we must be holy and keep the faith because of it,' maintained Mr Daly. 'To prove ourselves worthy of what we aspire to.'

It was a lot to expect of anybody, Jonathon thought, but he was a member of Haven now and took what the head pastor taught seriously.

So if he was a member of 'Haven', and a theologian, what contribution could he make to the world? What could leave the mark of Jonathon Holmes on the world? What could do that?

Perhaps finally marrying his girlfriend Lucinda Jeffries would be a good idea, and getting some children. She had hinted at it long enough that it was what she wanted most of all with him. But Lucinda was a Christian, and not a Noahide. And while he wasn't quite sure yet if that really mattered or not, he wanted to make sure he did the right thing as far as God was concerned. That much was important to him.

Jonathon worked in a Video rental store in Wellington, behind the counter, buzzing DVDs in and out through the scanners. He worked part time and didn't do much else, thus rented an apartment, not being able to afford anything else. But he wanted to go to university and, at 23, felt he now was wise enough and old enough that he could cope with a degree, something he had been unsure about immediately after leaving school. But he had no idea what to study and prayed that God would lead him in the right direction. He would work out what he would do sooner or later. It was just a matter of time.

Lucinda believed in God, was a practicing Christian, but didn't go to church and really didn't care that much about religion. It bored her really and caused too many arguments. She liked her boyfriend, Jonathon, and really wanted to marry him, and had dropped hints long enough for him to get the idea. But the fool didn't get the point, and she was not really sure if he wanted to. 'Perhaps he likes it the way it is,' she thought to herself. That hadn't bothered her at first, but she wanted to be married. She wanted commitment and she wanted to settle. To carry on her own family traditions and have children. This was all in the mind of Lucinda Jeffries, but sometimes fate gets in the way before our hearts prayers can be answered. Sometimes destiny has its say first.

'…and so the world has drawn even closer to world unity, today, with the official signing by the Asian Union to join the Western Alliance. We are uniting, and we will be one.'

The President of America, one of the key figures in ensuring that the Asian Union joined the Western Alliance, echoed off words to a rapturous applause. The world would never be the same again, Jonathon thought to himself. Never the same again.

The following day at work he was on his lunch break, looking through one of the Batman comics he bought from the store next door, when the owner of the comic store came in, Callodyn Bradlock, coming up to him. 'Hi Jonathon. I am after a particular movie – a classic. 'The Omen'. Do you have it?'

'Let me check,' said Jonathon, and typed the title into his PC. 'Sure, we have a copy in the horror section. It shouldn't be too hard to find. I can find it for you if you like.'

'No, I'll look for it.' And he went off to look for the movie.

Jonathon sat reading through the latest adventure of the Caped Crusader, oblivious to Callodyn who had returned and was holding the DVD, staring at him. Jonathon finally noticed him and excused himself. 'Yeh, the Omen. Cool. Classic Antichrist movie. Loved it when I saw it.'

Callodyn smiled. 'Tell me, do you believe in an Antichrist?'

'I'm not a Christian.'

'Really,' said Callodyn. 'So are you religious at all?'

'Uh, yeh. Noahide, actually. Based on Noah's covenant – a biblical thing.' Callodyn stared at him momentarily, almost as if stunned, but finally spoke. 'Well, Jonathon, isn't it?'

'Yeh.'

'We may just have something to talk about. I am quite familiar with the Noahide faith. Quite familiar. I myself follow Samaritan Noahide faith established by the Israelite Taheb, amongst other spiritual beliefs.'

'Yeh, I have heard of the Taheb. I am in a fellowship called 'Haven Noahide Fellowship'. We are basically Samaritan Noahides as well. We hold to the Hexateuch, in a progressive mindset though, but do believe in literal creation and literal covenant. A core history in Torah is what we teach.'

Callodyn responded, quite interested in the conversation. 'Do you hold to documentary teachings?'

'Yeh, pretty much. I keep abreast of the latest literature on the subject. It is fascinating stuff.'

'I think, though, it is perhaps more historical then you may have guessed, the Torah. There is a lot which I would call quite historical in there.'

'We are open on that subject. We don't claim to have the historical information, apart from scripture and archaeology, really. So we keep an open mind. But the picture is getting clearer, these days. A lot of work has gone into it this century. A lot of work.'

'Would you like to come over for dinner, tonight?' Callodyn asked him. 'I would relish an opportunity to discuss this matter.'

'Uh, sure. Okay. Can I bring my girlfriend?'

'Sure. Well, here is my card. It has my address. See you tonight, around 7?'

'That'll be fine. See you there.' Callodyn nodded, paid for the DVD rental, and left.

Watching him go Jonathon was suddenly quite pleased. It seemed he had met another Noahide, a rare thing, and having conversation on this issue really looked appealing. He looked forward to the night tremendously.

Neither Jonathon or Lucinda could really say why, but there was something about Callodyn's wife Rachel, something which instantly connected them to her, in some way as if they had already known her personally, but didn't know why.

But, later on that night, after they'd had a great dinner with the Bradlock's, Jonathon recalled a strange dream he'd had a while ago. A strange dream in which he'd seen a lady and given her great honour, amongst a whole crowd who was honouring her, and somehow this 'Rachel Bradlock' seemed to be that lady. He could not really remember the face of the lady in the dream, but somehow he knew it was Rachel. He just knew it in his heart.

He discussed this with Lucinda, and then he was alarmed, because she related a similar dream and a similar feeling towards Rachel. And then both of them were truly puzzled. What a weird coincidence, Jonathon thought to himself. What a totally weird coincidence. And what possibly could it mean?

Jonathon and Lucinda gradually developed a friendship with Callodyn and Rachel Bradlock, Rachel in particular, and before they left for Canberra they had become quite close. It was destiny which drew them together – a carefully chosen destiny, crafted by Almighty God from Jonathon and Lucinda's youth. The Ketravim were not foreknown by God in the same sense as the children and angels of God. They were, instead, simply humans. But after God chose Rachel as the lastborn of the Cherubim in a sense of the Realm of Eternity, and as the firstborn of the Ketravim, he began his task of building the Ketravim community. They would be linked, though, inevitably. And the link was that each Ketravim chosen must come into the destiny in some way of prior Ketravim. This was the most definite will of God. For this reason Callodyn and Rachel's destiny had brought them to New Zealand, for the meeting with Jonathon and Lucinda. But, with the friendship formed, which was the primary thing, Rachel could now move on, in God's plans, to the next Ketravim. And this was a Canberra resident. A most special Canberra resident.

The End

Lucy Smith – Choices of the Heart

7,499 SC

Gemma Watkins was a lady of extraordinary beauty, and also one loved greatly. In fact, David Rothchild had long felt he was to be with this woman forever, but it didn't work out in the end. It just wasn't, apparently, meant to be. But no worry, life went on, and Gemma continued her life after David with all the courage and finesse which her beauty lent her.

One of Gemma's close friend was Lucy Smith, the witch. Lucy had recently gone through many turmoils at the hand of the Dark Lord's of evil, and while she had vanquished Lucifer, hopefully, for the very last time, she felt the power of evil that one had would somehow resurface. It seemed, in truth, impossible to escape this dark lord who had haunted her for so long.

Lucy, one fine Sunday morning, having tea with Shelandragh in her house in Bunyan known as Minoxxia, welcomed visiting Gemma Watkins to their home. Gemma, now, was ancient as well. And this was something she had only started to grasp, the gift of life that God had apparently blessed her with. It had all started when her new friends Jonathon and Lucinda had arrived from New Zealand and introduced her to Callodyn Bradlock and his wife Rachel. Instantly Gemma had made a deep and personal connection with Rachel Bradlock, and following that an even stronger connection with Jonathon and Lucinda. And then, for some completely unexplicable reason, she had gone off to live in England for 30 years, just upon a whim, and ended up were Callodyn said he had come from, Hull on the coast, were she had met a certain ex copper, Jack Dagger, who claimed a similar long life to Gemma, having quickly opened up to her for some strange reason. She had shared this with Lucy, that there was an order or something amongst a special group of humans, and that Rachel was the firstborn, followed by Jonathon and then Lucinda, and then herself and Jack Dagger following her. And, apparently, from what Rachel was suggesting to her, an unlimited number of human souls were to slowly and inevitably join their group. She had dreamed a number of times of these people, so she had told Gemma, and recognized Gemma very quickly from her visions. Callodyn had used a description, just the once, and not spoken of it again, calling them the 'Ketravim of Eternity'. Gemma had queried many times what the word Ketravim was supposed to mean, but Callodyn was not any more forthcoming.

Gemma had for a long time considered that she must have just had special genes but, inevitably, the spiritual came up and she considered the God question. It seemed that God had chosen her, that the most high himself had picked her for long, if not eternal life, and that such was her reward for some apparent reason not known to her. It was a strange calling, frightening at first, but she was now enjoying her long extended life quite tremendously. She had much wealth, a great deal of assets, and a number of houses in Canberra and Sydney. In a way it really was the high life for Gemma Watkins.

Of course, she soon found out that Justine and David also partook of such a life, as well as Lucy Smith and Shelandragh May amongst others, including the other Ketravim and Callodyn and Leopold Bradlock. David said they were living towards the end of days of human society in apocalyptic terms and special things were now happening. Gemma did not really understand much of what all that was about, but trusted David nonetheless.

Yet, today, she was visiting Lucy, and on a day of days as well. The world was on tenterhooks, for the world alliance was about to invade Israel, the final nation not part of the alliance of Alexander Darvanius II. Everyone knew Alexander, many said he was a 'Christ' of sorts, the one preparing the way for the return of Jesus, as he had lived now for so long. Gemma had heard so much of Lucy's encounters with Alexander, but today, a day of destiny, Gemma was to witness the most fateful choice of all in the destiny of Lucy Smith and Alexander Darvanius II.

Satan watched on. Alexander had knocked on the door, and Gemma had answered it. She had looked at him, let him in, and they all sat in the lounge room, Alexander not initially speaking. Eventually he spoke up.

'Lucy. You have a choice to make, young woman. An important choice to make. It is this. Serve me, serve my kingdom, and I will offer you rewards beyond your comprehension. Simply acknowledge that I am the way of destiny the world needs most of all. Alternatively, you may choose this. You may choose to vanquish me, to have the upcoming final conflict go against me, and have me utterly defeated at the hands of the returning Jesus.

You know of the methods I often employ, you know of Lucifer Darvanius who I have utilized to achieve many ruthless ends. You know, though, that I have never had a man killed deliberately by Lucifer, and that any such wickedness he claims is by his own volition. In this sense you are aware that I have not violated the laws of life of the Rainbow Bible. I have not been perfect in morality at all, and perhaps quite detestable in what I have allowed by many people's standards.

Yet you also know, as I have made clear to you previously, that I serve a sense of goodness which is vindicated by its defiance of the purest forms of evil and wickedness. You know I represent absolutism, extremely strict absolutism, and a sense of utter commitment. And you know I represent this to thwart the evil in mankind.

I am a paradox, Lucy Smith. I am contrary to God, yet perhaps what he needs most of all. But that is who I am, and perhaps I have been chosen for this task.

You know, if you choose against me, that I will fall into the pit of despair for aeons beyond counting. Yet you also know, that in the judgements I will place upon mankind I will judge for so very long in a way which most will complain is too restrictive and oppressive in the freedoms they take for granted. And the ends will often justify my means.

Yet, that is what I offer. That is what I, Saruviel, represent, and my fate is only in your hands Lucy Smith. Only in your hands.'

In heaven, Daniel and Ariel sitting next to Samael of the children of heaven, waited anxiously. The other children couldn't bare to watch, and today was the day of the choosing – the day of fundamental choosing – and they watched on with baited breath.

Lucy spoke.

'No, Saruviel. No.'

'And what does that mean?'

'I choose neither to justify you or disgrace you. To neither condemn you or accept your ways. I choose, instead, to forgive you and allow life itself to make the ultimate choices on your destiny. It is unwritten, Alexander Darvanius. It is unwritten.'

Daniel, in heaven, looked at Ariel and grinned. Samael swore and instantly said, 'For Christ's sake, you must have told her,' but Daniel and Ariel simply said nothing. And thus, the choice Samael feared the most, occurred, and the fate of Saruviel was now in the hands of God and the nature of life itself.

Alexander looked at Lucy, gave her a new, perplexed look, and left. Now, that was unexpected. That was, in truth, quite unexpected.

The End

Lucy Smith - The Children of Haven

Chapter One

Lucy Smith was an extraordinary lady. In more ways than one. This was the fixed and constant opinion of Lucifer Darvanius. Vanquished, yet again. And fuck it pissed him off. He should fix the little bitch up. But, no. He couldn't. The strange emotion, which angels talked of, which, perhaps, in days long ago, in an inifinite realm he partook of, but long ago decided that the truths of passion, the truths of aggression, the truths of the will of the dark magic, took precedence over anything so simple as that strangest of emotions. That emotion called – love.

He remembered the Celestyels of Infinity, and the passion they'd had towards him on the occasions they led him to their bedroom, and lavished rich lovings upon him. And he still enjoyed those lavishings, especially on his manhood, in the brothels of the dark places of society, where he ordered his pleasures, and paid his fee, and lay there, as she did her work, as she did his pleasure.

But with Lucy, while he desperately wanted to fuck her brains out, the strangest and most ridiculous of emotions said to him, 'You love her too much you devil.' And so he prattled on these days with email after endless email about his victories against this biker dude or that drug dealer, and the victories he'd won on the battlefield of the barroom floor. And he did that, not even in fact anymore, but with bravado and Majesterial brutality. But he always said, at the end of his little tirades, two simple words. Your cute.

She was, in fact, quite cute. A babe, really. And had a spirit which turned him on, gave him a hard on, and off he went to his bedroom, relieved himself, and lay there, fantasizing upon Lucy, and perhaps, letting that weird feeling fill his heart.

Love.

But, fuckit. He was a devil. He was a Darvanius. She was just another woman, just another babe, just another fuck.

Still, he couldn't think that in that part of his heart which some greater power still controlled.

He loved her. As simple as that. He loved the dumbass little witch. He loved her.

Daniel Daly, head of Haven Noahide fellowship, sat in his Cooma north abode, Lucy sitting at the desk, with a pen, a quill in fact, writing out a portion of the Torah. Genesis chapter 1 in fact. She'd never done this before, but he had suggested to her that a faithful Karaite Noahide, if one were to take the religion seriously, would in fact, in time, get to writing out the entire Rainbow Torah. Genesis 1 – 11:9. And so, this morning, as the rays of dawn hit the front window, sitting there quietly, enjoying the peace of a beautiful Sunday Morning, the same title for such a song by the band Madasun enjoying its playing on repeat on the CD player, he was inspired, got Lucy up early, at their bacon and eggs and other things, and suggested the idea to her.

'Sure. After lunch,' she responded. He didn't object.

She was slow, but handwriting was often like that, and took time, especially Lucy's, as she was so incredibly neat. But around dinner time she produced the parchment, of all things she had chosen and purchased downtown in Cooma, and he looked at it. It was beautiful. She had completed the Rainbow Torah designation of Haven Noahide Fellowship, which was Genesis 1 to Genesis 2:4a. That was the Creation section.

'What do you think?' she asked him.

'It's a lot better than my first effort. My handwriting has never been that neat.'

She nodded, and took the parchment and placed it inside the plastic folder she had decided to keep her work in, inside a plastic sleeve.

'I'll read it, you know, Dan. When it's finished. It will be my personal torah. It's the one I'll stick with.'

'I usually read a JPS Tanakh myself, but fair enough,' responded Daniel.

'Do you ask this of all of them? Members of Haven? The Children of Haven.'

'No. Not really. It's not even written down in the 7 Rainbow Bibles as a requirement. Just something I suggest to those who are serious about the faith. Some have done it.'

'Am I going to meet them, then? The Children of Haven. It's been a few years, now, Daniel. We've been discussing this. Lucifer's gone, now. Zoldarius too. I don't think they will be back. Not any time soon, anyway. Knew they had messed with the wrong people.'

'Pride comes before the fall, Lucy Smith. A witch of maturity should know such a truth. I am familiar with Shelandragh's teachings upon you, you know. Quite familiar.'

'You fancy yourself a wizard,' she said casually. 'You think you have any gifts?'

'I don't always agree with David Rothchild, you know. His judgements. His jewish religion. Noahide faith, in the end, has its own freedoms. Spiritual animism is fine to me. God made it, after all, and I have these gifts in me, just like you.'

'But what about real magic?' she asked him curiously.

'Mmm. No. Not in the end. Don't want to fuck with the ultimate source of that shit. It's a different spirit. A different energy. It goes back to the beginning, of all things, when God was young in his dreams and plans. He created the energy field for temptation purposes, to sort out ole Samael.'

'How do you know that?' she asked him.

'A little angel told me so,' he said with a wink. 'Heaven does that for me, occasionally. Gives me a little whisper, a little story, a little legend of what its all about. A little about you, even. And Enrique, funnily enough. Strange, you and him. Have you worked it out yet? Do you love him?'

'We share Jenny. That will always be true. You know I love him, ok. I always will. But I like Selena Gomez' advice. In and out of love, and that's how I like it. Its why I'm here, of course.'

'Huh?' he said, turning back to what she had just said, because his head had been turned.

She just smiled at him.

'How much of that parchment did you get?' he asked her.

'Enough for the whole Rainbow Torah.'

'Job. Also Job. If you want to do that eventually. That book is ok for Noahides. He was one.'

'I know. I thought about that already, anyway.'

'Would you ever do it all? The whole Tanakh?'

'Have you?' she asked, looking directly at him.

'No,' he responded, after a moment. 'Only the Rainbow Torah. 3 times. Nothing more.'

'Then probably not,' she replied. 'Don't want to usurp my leader now, do I?' She smiled at him, and he grinned in response.

'You'll meet the children of Haven soon enough, ok. There are a few of them in Cooma. A lot more in Canberra where it started. You'll like them. I'm sure of it. And you'll get a rush in the fellowship. The spirit of our communion.'

'Mmm?' she queried.

'Churches have them. Most religions do. A unique spirit. I prayed long and hard for each of the 7, that they would have really intoxicating spirits. Ones which really helped the heart in its life struggles. You only get it when we are together, though. But its bliss.'

'I look forward to it,' she said smiling at him. He smiled back.

Shelandragh came around that evening, and they had their meal, and Daniel stole another look at Lucy's little rainbow torah when she was sleeping, and smiled to himself. Always nice to see the Noahide world grow. Always nice.

Jane Elegar Smith was a regular person in many ways. Bored with life at 18, suicidal, addicted to death metal, working as a prostitute in Fyshwick, living in a Trailer Park in Symonston or Narrabundah or some bloody suburb she couldn't remember the name of, but it was on her mail and her DSP card, and addicted to cigarettes, honeycomb schnapz, and girl porno, Jane Elegar Smith was indeed a regular person. Or so she believed anyway. She fancied herself 'Decadence'. The title or moniker she called herself by. She was a prophetess of wisdom, inspired by Pentecostal messages describing her as a chosen vessel of God, even though she had fucked off from church after only 2 visits. Now she lived on the DSP – the Disability Support Pension – for her schizophrenia, played Sega video games from the 90s which she collected, and listened to Death Metal acts such as Slayer, Morbid Angel and Metallica, but adoring Hard Rock even more than the heavy stuff. She even had tapes. A girl of her generation, even with tape cassettes. It was unheard of, but she collected them anyway, as some places still produced them. She had, in her cabin in the trailer park, a pile of tape cassette box holders, piled high to the ceiling of the cabin, alphabetized, 4 columns of them, about 25 rows, or something like that. About 100 boxes, with over 2000 cassettes so far. And about the same again on CD and record. Out the front of her Cabin was a sign which read. 'Bon Jovi? Are you serious? Poison Forever.' Yet, despite being the world's biggest Brett Michael's fan, she loved the Jovi also. Decadence was really just that – decadence. But she was also in a relationship, of about 3 months now, with a Cooma guy. Daniel. Daniel Daly. He'd met her, at the trailer park, when he was visiting a friend of his, and said hello. He'd said hi back and she invited him into her cabin for a friendly chat. And he saw her metal, and he said 'I love you forever,' in a cute voice. Yet, as strange as it seemed, somehow she knew he meant it. Like it was fate. Like it was destiny.

He was a religious freak, he told her, but she said that was ok. She liked religion now. She liked God. He had filled her with his spirit and, while she argued with him each morning, she loved him none the less. God was great. Even understood a girl like her. And then, just 2 weeks after friendship, he asked her to go steady with him, and she said 'Shit yeah.'

Decadence was unemployed, naturally, and in terms of physical appearance she was slightly chubby, but in what Daniel told her was a cute way, which she knew in fact to be true. Curvy, more than anything. Not an embarrassing fatness, and he said he really liked her legs. Kind of him.

She ate ice cream, lots of it, junk food, and watched pay tv all day and all night, apart from when her and Sarah and Sarah's man, Davo, from next door, played cards, which they did half the day.

Suicidal thoughts were impulsive, because she wanted to go to heaven now, rather than having to wait forever. Coz she didn't hate life, and didn't really suffer depression. Madness, sure, and killing herself would be a rush. But not now, ok. Probably not now. Daniel was on her mind. He was nice. Sweet. And he loved her and what she represented. And he meant it. He meant it.

Daniel was preaching a sermon. Haven had gathered in Cooma, and Lucy was in the front row, sitting next to Jane Smith.

'Why don't we fuck animals?' he began. 'Vd's. Causes VD's which make you sterile. No offspring. No future. No hope. Also, a sexual act which doesn't make children. Pretty crude as well. Why not homosexuality? Leads to bestiality. They don't give a fuck about standards, and end up fucking animals as well. Besides, no offspring either. The current trend of gay marriages. They don't make babies. Oh, let us let them adopt, says society. Stupid, aren't they. Kids could grow up gay as well. No offspring for them, either. What about wars? Oh, yeh. I went off to war, says sergeant slaughter in his heavenly abode. Got my brains blown out with a bazooka. Didn't have kids to my girl back home yet, though. No offspring. No future. Why don't we allow brawlings and fightings? They end up killing each other in rage. No future. No offspring. You see those, and countless other reasons why the Torah is correct, is currently ignored by politically correct society. They think they know better. Their liberal ragings on evolutionary scientific 'Truths'. They're idiots. They won't inherit the land. You see, ever generation God prunes mankind. Roots out the wicked, lets the righteous prosper. It's why we are less violent in these generations and holier than in the earlier ones. But sin is still popular, and people are still choosing it. Yet, what really survives are righteous bloodlines who have learned the truths taught from their parents, about sin and how it only kills you in the end. How it only kills you in the end. Like the dark magic. How it only kills you in the end.'

He stood down. There was a clap, and they mingled, and Lucy considered his final words. How the dark magic only kills you in the end. She got the point. She really got the point.

Lucifer looked at the picture of Lucy above his Sydney home bedroom desk. He lived in Sydney, now, for the most part. Lucius in the UK, and Lucas in the USA. That's how they liked it, the triplets. Living apart. Living in their own universe. Ocker Aussie had won him, a long time ago, and he spoke like them, swore like them, and played AC DC on his CD Walkman time and time again. He was even a citizen, and hadn't needed to smudge the lines. He thought on Lucy, and he thought on his sins. Lucifer had killed men. But, in the end, despite being a scumbag son of a bitch he knew himself to be, they had always been of the evil kind. Brawlers in bars, boozing madman having a go at him, who he had knocked off. Or drug dealers trying to screw him on the price. He took a particular disliking to them. But he always had a look at the man, and asked himself 'Does he deserve it.' He remembered, you see, an old law of life taught him in his youth. By John Darvanius. 'Kill an innocent, Lucifer, and don't think God will forgive you, let alone prosper you. Remember that.'

He did. He always had. And while he was scum, perhaps Lucy could even like a guy like him. Perhaps.

He went off to the TV room, switched on the TV, and watching 'Supernatural', his mind drifted away, and he snoozed, as the world turned, and Lucy Smith gave no sudden thoughts of inspiration towards Lucifer that day either.

Chapter Two

Lucy Smith sat with young Jenny. 3 years old, still not talking, which was a worry. But she was no trouble. In fact, largely the opposite. When she put her down, she sat there, unmoving. Just playing with whatever toy her mother had given her, smiling, happy, innocent. But, as Lucy noticed, she just sat there. Unmoving. As if a spirit of stability and unchanginess had settled upon her, and she wasn't really interested in doing anything else apart from the issue at hand. And in Jenny's case it was mostly the toy her mother gave her. What a strange young child.

She had prayed for Jenny to Jehovah since her birth, and asked for a blessing in Karaite Noahide faith for the child. It was her religion, now, and she wanted the child brought up properly because of it. She wouldn't refuse her magic, though, but had second thoughts about real magic. The magic of Shelandragh's. The child probably didn't have that anyway – real magic. She was probably animistic, which even Daniel didn't object to, and he was serious on that issue. Daniel loved Shelandragh, though, and didn't object to the magic within her. She was a good old soul, he told Lucy often, and that whatever the Dark Magic had once been to her had been conquered long ago by Shelandragh's quiet sensibilities and general sense of goodness and courtesy. She was a fine witch, and the community was lucky to have her, Daniel once commented to her.

Jenny was an attractive enough child, good looking, like her mother, and looked like Enrique also. She ate her food, and didn't object to her veges most of the time, but never ate the sandwich crusts, which she left. That was not good enough for the young child, so Lucy had started cutting off the crusts, amused by the child's picky eating habits. When spoken to the girl looked up at you, eyes wide with wonder, but no other reaction. She was not deaf, or anything like that, and usually turned her head when her mother was speaking to her. But she was oh, so quiet, and there was never a peep from her. A few cries in babyhood, which had left as she started toddling around. She was something quite different than the expectations Lucy had had in her first motherhood.

Enrique came around from time to time, but claimed, now, was with another woman. Another love, and that he even had children. Good for him, she thought to herself. He had found where he probably really belonged then. And then, last week, he had sent her a postcard from Brazil, and the girl's name was Monica Gomez. One of his own. Perhaps she should have expected that in the end. His own culture. Not that surprising in the end, really. Not that surprising.

It was a happy, content and joyous life in Cooma, living next door to the pool usually, but she spent a lot of time living with Daniel Daly also, for she had a crush on him. She hadn't told him. She'd been subtle about that, but it was something which had bubbled up for a few years now. He was like her, so she noticed. A similar spirit, as if they were related somehow. And she understood his sarcasm and humour, and she liked his general demeanour. And he was attractive also. She had a lot of money, now, and from winnings early on in life in a special quest she had invested the money in shares in Australian companies later on in life, which now sufficed as her total income without any problems at all, the companies having still continued to grow. She was happy, quiet, content. But the Children of Haven had now come into her life, and it was a new beginning. A new spiritual adventure. And each day she found private joy from God, anxiously waiting upon what would happen next. For life was good and that was the way she liked it.

Dead. All dead. All dead. Lucy looked on at the funeral as Madalene was laid to rest, next to her sister Georgia and brother Jayden, in the Chakola cemetery. 'The last of them,' said Daniel. 'All gone now. Just you and me, Lucy.'

'Amelia, of course,' responded Lucy.

Daniel's eyes glazed over. Amelia was in Canada, and did not speak to him much. She was upset. Upset over old words of Daniel. Words of eternity. Words of eternal life.

'Some others of the Children of Destiny have a different fate, Amelia. Not the same as the traditional kind. Other ones, perhaps inspired by magic and myth. A longer life. A more – eternal – one. Just the way of things, you know. Some dreams live. Some dreams die.'

He remembered those words.

'There are a lot of people in this world,' said Lucy. 'And there is not much Christianity left, now. I went to church the other day. In civic. A Uniting Church. 2 members. On Sunday. The only two members. They said something to me. About 300 Christians left in Canberra now. Ironically, the Jewish community is apparently bigger, just, now anyway. Same worldwide.'

'And Islam?' queried Daniel.

'Are there any? Anywhere? People hated that in the end. So violent. So extreme.'

Daniel nodded consolingly. He looked as the gravesmen piled on the dirt, prayed a soft prayer for Madalene's soul, and turned with Lucy Smith, walked up to the car, and sombrely drove home. Sombrely drove home.

The Children of Haven. A thought had entered the mind of Lucy Smith. She was now one of the Children of Haven. And then another question.

'Who are the 7DF, Daniel? What is that all about?'

'Oh. Those are the other ones. Seven Divine Fellowships. Number one is Haven Noahide Fellowship and then, in order, Assembly of the Divine Creator, Universal Faith Assembly, Assembly of the Living God, Universal Truth Assembly, Assembly of the Most High and, finally, Haven Adamide Fellowship.'

'Two Havens!' she exclaimed.

'For the Children of Adam. A more universal focus. But you are Haven Noahide.'

'I don't know. Perhaps I'll choose another one. Maybe, Assembly of the Most High.'

He looked at her. 'Dream on.' But he kept the matter in mind.

'When are we having another service?' she asked later on in the day. 'The spirit was amazing, as you said. When we were all together. So spiritual. So deep. So thoughtful about it all. Dense, even. Like so many issues had been considered quite deeply.'

'Seeking the heart of God,' he said softly. 'Prayed into them. By myself and other members. The spirit of the Assemblies are eternal. That was the primary and chief request. So we developed our theological thinking and brought in distinct theologies for each fellowship. A unique spirit for each of them. You were very close to Madalene. She was Catholic. Haven Noahide is primarily aimed at ex-catholics.'

'Really?' she asked curiously.

'The other assemblies have a different client base. Ex-anglicans go into Assembly of the Divine Creator, for example. Or English Catholics. It's an Anglospheran assembly. Strongly promotes English culture as one of its core goals. A strong focus on that. Also focuses on the Second Quran, but not the first one. I wrote a document once called 'The Second Quran'

'And Universal Faith Assembly?'

'God's one. Specially for God. Meant to be a house of prayer and worship were everyone of all persuasions can feel at home. Even goes soft on the gays somewhat. UFA. A very 'Accepting' fellowship.'

'Assembly of the Living God?'

AOTLG is catered for other religions and ex agnostics / ex atheists / ex non religios and ex deists. It also has an Anglosphere focus, but primarily on the legal structures of the 7 Sovereign Nations as I call them. The constitutions.'

'What are the 7 Sovereign Nations?'

'UK, US, Australia, Ireland, New Zealand, Guyana and Canada. The main English Speaking Nations. Just an idea I prayed about once.'

'Oh. And Universal Truth Assembly?'

'Has the ability of having Jewish and Muslim members. The Tanakh and the Quran are books also for this Assembly. I recognize the historical facts behind the formulation of the texts, but they are included. Also, to be very blunt Lucy, it has an African penchant about it. The Black Fella's assembly, putting it very bluntly.'

'Fair enough,' she responded. 'What about Assembly of the Most High?'

'Protestant Christians who have left the church as well as the Evangelical Church and any ex-Pentecostals. But, with each of the Assemblies, they have their own unique identities anyway, based around the theological tenets of the Rainbow Bible for each of them.'

'And Haven Adamide for humans in general?'

'I am aiming towards Ex Unitarian Christians and Ex Oneness Christians in that assembly. However, various little angels have whispered to me the Assemblies exist in heaven now anyway, and they have their own memberships based on the general heavenly community people of those of whoever has taken an interest. On earth there is a bit of a focus towards people from prior spiritual backgrounds towards their own particular spiritual assembly, something just for them, and that is the way I have organized it so far. But, technically, you could join whichever of the 7DF you wanted to in the end. It comes down to your own choice, that being if you want to join it.'

'I'll end up in Assembly of the Most High. But I'll stick with Haven for now.'

'And how do you know that?' he asked her, smiling.

'I just do,' she responded, and wandered off, a big smile on her face.

Lucifer Darvanius sat on his Harley Davidson, smoked his ciggie, took a swig of Jack Daniel's, and looked at the fellowship hall in North Cooma. He wasn't an idiot. He knew about this place years ago. Alexander had tipped him off on it. There were about 5 cars in the parking lot, the service going on and, flicking his ciggie to the ground, he dismounted his bike, brushed his hair back with his hands, and wandered up the path, to enter the building.

Inside there was not much going on at the moment. About 20 souls, sitting around, chatting lightly. Daniel himself was up the front, behind the dais, seated, looking through some notes. And there, in the front row, next to some other chick, Lucy. Looking beautiful. He wandered up, somewhat obnoxiously, and eyes turned to look at him. And then Lucy, whose eyes were staggered, but said nothing as he sat down next to him, snorted, and stared frontwards. She looked at him for several moments, but said nothing. Daniel stood, noticed Lucifer, but got to his sermon.

'Evil, is not good,' said Daniel. 'Not good. In fact, diametrically opposed to good. But it is so stupid, doing whatever the hell it wants, sometimes it acts in goodness without realizing it. You see the heart of evil is not to choose evil, but to choose completely its own will. And sometimes, in that strange beast of freedom, even goodness can be chosen. The Dark Magic works like that as well, protecting itself, hating all who would oppose it but, in a truly capitalistic amazement, will work towards those things which will get it off as well, even if sometimes it protects, even if sometimes it loves. Damien Darvanius is the heart of so much evil on this planet, an adversary of our fellowship's, and like Alexander and like,' he said, looking at his guest, 'Lucifer Darvanius,' even evil sometimes has its days off, when it just wants to hang around, have a good time, and do whatever. And, so that we teach the lesson of God – the fundamental lesson – that we reward goodness and punish evil, on such occasions we reinforce its finally sensible decisions, and give the devils a break. Evil is as evil does but, deep down in the hearts of so many used to doing whatever the fuck they want, sometimes, just sometimes, they listen to that small and quiet voice of eternity which says 'lighten up dude.'

And Daniel left off speaking, returned to his seat, and the congregation set to chatter.

During the barbecue that followed, Lucifer behaved himself somewhat. He spoke well of Daniel's sermon, and agreed he was a thoroughly evil son of a bitch, but he smiled a lot, grinned madly a lot, and drinking his coca cola, which was all that was on offer apart from the juices, he attempted cuddling Lucy Smith on more than one occasion. And one occasion she didn't even resist.

'So where do I sign up?' Lucifer asked, as the congregation gradually started departing for the day.

Daniel looked at him sombrely, went off to the bookcase, and returned with a Haven Noahide Fellowship Rainbow Bible.

'Read this. All of it. We have informal membership to start with. Stick with that and you can become a full time member if that is what you want.'

'I have sinned, pastor,' said Lucifer, slightly mocking.

'Don't I know it,' said Daniel, a wry smile on his face.

'Jesus Christ!' swore Lucy, looking at Lucifer holding a Rainbow Bible.

'Maybe one day,' said Lucifer, and again tried to pinch her butt for the fourth time that day.

Later on that afternoon, Lucifer having hooned off on his bike, Lucy and Daniel were still in the fellowship hall, cleaning up, busy with their duties, when Lucy, finishing, sat down, and looked frontwards. The Rainbow against the far wall looked bright and happy, and she was in a reflective mood. Daniel came into the room, looked around, and looked at her. 'It's pretty much done. I'll vacuum sometime during the week.'

She nodded vaguely. He sat down next to her.

Finally she spoke. 'Lucifer Darvanius, Daniel? Lucifer Darvanius?'

'In the end, Lucy Smith, God has an arrangement with a man of God. Especially a Karaite one. You probably know Ezekiel 18 anyway.'

'Humph,' she said, for she knew it well.

'Well that's the point, Luce. If they really get their act together, and get the hell over being such sons of bitches all the time, God will give them a break. He does it for everyone. And if Lucifer Darvanius, the devil himself, really wants to have a go at Noahide religion, and get over some of his evil, as a Man of God I have to intercede for him and give him a chance. It's in the contract I made with God as a Karaite.'

'I understand,' she responded. 'It's just, well. Lucifer Darvanius, Daniel?'

Daniel smirked, scruffed her shoulder, and as they walked home to Daniel's place, even Daniel could appreciate the irony of the situation, and wondered to himself just what the next little while would hold for the people of Cooma and the members of Haven Noahide Fellowship in particular.

Chapter Three

'It is, the Anima,' said Aro.

'The Anima?' queried Kristen.

Gladitorius Vigantes looked at the spirit in the heart of Celestevere, and turned, disinterested back to his entourage. 'The Anima is a weak and pathetic spirit,' he began. 'The power of nature and nothing more. And these days all it makes is rainbows. Quite pathetic stuff.'

Kristen gazed at the coalescing spiritual energy before her and, suddenly, as if in response, a rainbow appeared in the centre of it and shone brilliantly for a few moments. Then it was gone, and the Anima shrank in size, and started to scoot around the main hall, as if finding something new for the first time.

'What is the Anima?' Kristen asked her husband, Kardos, a little later that day, in their Celesteveran abode, down in the heart of the Nether.

'It doesn't concern us much,' began Kardos. 'It's, you know,' he said, waving his hand upwards.

'You know what?' she asked, sitting down, suddenly very interested.

'God stuff,' he said, looking directly at her.

'Oh,' she said, and looked into the fire. 'But, what is it?'

'The spirits of nature, all manifesting in a central point from time to time, forming itself to understand the world, presumably, to learn new things. To acquire more knowledge. Anima is the spirit of nature, the spirit of life, in a sense. It is those things we feel spiritually, the taste of the ambience of Celestevere, for example, is its own Animistic expression. It is a living spirit, the spirit of nature, but it doesn't really threaten anybody, doesn't really care that much. It just wants to have fun, somebody posited once.'

'Fascinating,' she responded.

'And sometimes, just sometimes, people control it. Who are gifted in this spirit. The eternal spirit.'

She looked at him to try and understand what he meant, but it was vague and indifferent, such a common face on the husband of Kristen, Prince of Celestevere.

Flying through the heavens, returning to herself, a spirit which had controlled the Anima – the Animus host – shot like lightning across the sky, passing over the east coast of Australia and, just as suddenly as it had travelled by instinct, it arrived back in its body, and its eyes jolted open.

'She's back!' yelled Daniel, looking down at Decadence, whose eyes had quickly started flickering.

Lucy and Shelandragh came over instantly and helped Decadence to her feet.

'Fuck! What a rush!' said Decadence. 'It's like nothing I've ever experienced.'

'It certainly works differently in you, by the looks of it,' commented Shelandragh May. 'What exactly happened?'

'It's like I was instantly drawn to a place, to witness something or to see somebody. It felt as if there was this compulsion within me which needed to be satiated and I flew out of Australia, over the ocean, to America. And across the land and suddenly down beneath the world, in a dark and haunting world, like where a hobbit lives.'

'It was a nether,' said Shelandragh, knowingly. 'There are a number around the world. Where the undead live.'

'It was intense,' said Decadence. 'I spent several minutes just wandering around, and there was a woman, a beautiful woman, who I think I had been drawn to. Someone who was going through a trial of the heart, I think.'

'Well, you're back now,' said Lucy.

'I'm going to do this again,' said Decadence. 'Now that we know I have this power. This power, like your's Lucy.'

'It was obvious after a while,' said Shelandragh. 'That you had latent abilities in animistic awareness. This is just a way we brought your talent to the fore.'

'Amen,' responded the excited Decadence.

The four of them were in a field in Chakola, around Midnight, in a circle with a Septacle made by white rocks. At each corner of the 7 pointed Septacle a lantern was burning. They had invoked an Archangel's Septacle for protection from evil, for the 7 Archangels of God would intervene should any problems occur.

'Daniel yawned. 'Can we go? I'm sleepy.'

The girls nodded and, as they trudged through the field back to the dirt road and got into Daniel's van, Lucy drove them home back to Minoxxia, an exciting night's adventure providing likely to provide animated conversation for the next few days.

Lucy sat down at the little park near the pool. She was happy. Perhaps, for the first time, in a very long time, she was happy. Enrique was nowhere to be seen, but she didn't really worry about that much now. They were not married, and perhaps never would be. Things had ended between them, perhaps even amicably. No, she didn't necessarily need Enrique around, for another long friend had captivated the heart of Lucy Smith. Danny Daly. He was a dowdy fella in many ways, old and set in his ways, conservative. But soft. A strong heart, but soft. Gentle even. He had a streak of sarcasm, but an equally strong sense of responsibility, and kind mannerisms and demeanour. Kind hearted in general. Cute, somewhat. A little fat, which he had long been, but tolerable. She remembered long ago when he had been even somewhat chubby, but had managed to finally get that under control. He was also intelligent and thoughtful with his words, unless he was arguing with God, in which case, due to his schizophrenic condition, you could hear him practically cursing Jehovah for this or that inane issue, only to hear him apologizing profusely to God later on in the week. Quite ironic.

And wealthy. Oh, she had all the resources in the world available to her, but he communed to her much of Karaite Noahide general faith in the point in life on earth and much of that was the acquisition of wealth. What you acquire in life is what you acquire in life, Daniel was wont to say, implying that your heavenly reward was what you had acquired in life, plus an extension of associated rights pertaining to these things. It was a complex theology in some ways, but she got the gist. And in his databases of items he had owned in life, and either let go of, recycled or sold, for you only had to own an item for a decent time period, he had a great many choice items which she practically coveted. Things impossible to get now. It was certainly not true that she was only interested in him for his prospects and wealth, but it was also a factor. Yet, perhaps the main reason, there were not really many of them left. On the planet. The aged ones. The elect of sorts. There were thousands once. Now a few dozen. And she knew them all, those who had revealed themselves anyway. In terms of serious relationships now, apart from Enrique, who she was never quite sure it would ever work out with or not, for anybody even approaching a contemporary there were very slim pickings. But Daniel sufficed none the less. And her heart also loved him somewhat. Eternally? Who could say? Perhaps even Lucifer might win her there. But for now she enjoyed her time with Mr Daly, and was happy, content and at peace with her simple and quiet Cooma life.

Yet Jane Smith. Decadence. The new girl. She had the spirit – the animus in her – and could control anima instinctively. That was something new, and perhaps Jane would join them for however long their sojourn on God's Good Earth had left to them.

Decadence had known, when speaking in the presence of Lucy and Shelandragh about Magic, almost straight away. She had said that there was always something within her, but now she felt it acutely. And then Shelandragh had cast a spell of calmness over her, and felt her spirit with her intuition, noting the strong animism within her. So they had done the Septacle at Chakola, finding the white rocks, and placing Decadence within it. And she had closed her eyes, and suddenly the spirit had left the body.

What were these gifts? Where did they come from? The plan of creation, she guessed. She knew the Dark Magic, from Daniel's sermons, was ultimately from God, but almost as a test. But animism was friendly. What purpose did it serve? Where they lightbringers, guardians of mother nature, to use their talents for the good of humanity? That seemed the most likely purpose, for which her witchcraft, theoretically, served all along anyway. She did that occasionally. Took a client. Read a fair number of fortunes now, for that was in demand a lot. But occasionally someone sought a romance spell or a good luck spell, or some other blessings. And there were those who sought curses. Those she turned away.

Was she a Primal of creation? An architect of good fortune? A benevolent servant of the common good. Supposedly, in the end, that was it. The common good. Using white witchcraft for the betterment of mankind. And then there was the dark side. Always the dark side.

Lucy Smith was a moral lady. That was her choice. She wouldn't flinch from it either. She sought good things for others, and believed in the power of love and life. That was what it was all about. It was just a pity, though, that not everyone always felt the same way, and challenges had come because of it. Yet she would stand firm, and resist the devil as it were, and walk on, in her faith, in her gifts, and continue to find that passion and magic in life which had enlivened her soul for these many long years since her childhood. And praise God because of it.

'I know she is young, Lucy. But you were once, remember.'

'Heaven's above, Shelandragh May! Decadence is not exactly what I was like. She is a very different kettle of fish. I'm just worried about her, ok. The kind of power which seems to be in her, how will she handle it? People often do reckless things when they are young, you know. Yes. You would know, wouldn't you,' she said a little guiltily to the nodding Shelandragh May whose eyebrow was raised as she poured out the tea from the kettle.

They sat down in the back kitchen of Minoxxia, at the old table, and Lucy continued. 'She needs guidance. Someone to watch over her at the very least. A mentor. Like the way you have watched over me all this time.'

'And who would do that?' asked Shelandragh, sipping on her tea.

Lucy said nothing. 'I mean, somebody. Somebody we know, at least. I don't know. Alfric? Darren, maybe?'

'I'm wondering, Lucy Smith, if you really already have someone very specific in mind. I can read thoughts, you know.'

Lucy glared at her. 'Come on, Shelandragh. I've lived under your watchful eye long enough. I can have my own pupil, surely.'

'I dare say young Jenny, with the things I've noticed in her, will be enough for you to handle soon enough, but, yes. I do hear what you are saying. But it's a free world, remember. She is under no compulsion to submit to your tutelage.'

'I know. It's where I thought you could help. She respects you. Sort of looks up to you as a motherly figure. Perhaps you could say something.'

Shelandragh again raised her eyebrow, but did not comment.

'Put in a good word for me. Tell her about how well I have studied with you and all my experiences.'

Shelandragh bit into a Tim Tam, but remained silent.

'Unless YOU want to mentor her, that is.'

Shelandragh sipped on her tea and gazed at her student. 'I think, for the most part, the lecturing days of Shelandragh May are mostly at an end. I feel it, you know. The ticking of the clock. I'm not going to be here forever, Lucy, and I really am starting to show my age.'

'50 at most,' smiled Lucy.

Shelandragh yet again raised her eyebrow.

'Well maybe 60,' said Lucy softly.

'Which is why I am about ready for retirement. No, if young Jane Elegar Smith is to find a place of friendship to help her understand her gifts, it is probably in someone a little younger, a little closer to her age.'

Lucy smiled, and gave Shelandragh a hug. 'Thank you, thank you, thank you. You will speak to her then?'

'I'll speak to her. But I can't promise anything. The girl is obviously quite a free spirit and will make up her own mind. But I sense she trusts us and likes what we represent. I'll have words with her.'

Lucy hugged Shelandragh again, and wandered off to the room Shelandragh had long given her in Minoxxia, to write in her diary about all the wisdom she was just yearning to impart.

Lucy was looking through 'Witchcraft in Australia', one of the magazines she subscribed to. It had the Archangels Septacle in the issue she was looking at, a special from a few years back. She thought on Decadence, and how it had protected her from harm. Angels. Saving witches, of all people. How did they do it? They would apparently be alerted if complications arose. It was, in many ways, a mystery to Lucy Smith. But she was a lady well acquainted with mysteries. That had been her long life in many ways. Enigmas, contradictions, paradoxes. A long life, against the laws of nature one would normally assume, but they were elect, weren't they? Daniel assured her of that. Chosen by God. Special to God.

She put the magazine down, and picked up her Rainbow Torah, and read the 'Creation' section. 6 days work, 1 day rest. It was something she had slowly been working on. Resting for the good pleasure, she assumed, of God Almighty. But it worked. It helped her organize her life and work to deadlines when she needed to. But it was a free life, in many ways. She still had sums from ancient gold on ancient quests, well invested monies as well. She was still, financially, well off, for had not been foolish enough to squander her hard won inheritance. God, she believed, organized this in the life of Lucy Smith. Took care of her, and lead her on in her own pathway of salvation. And now? Now she found the Haven Assembly hall, in Cooma North, when they were in there and it was quiet, or Daniel had put on a soft Noahide music album, that she felt spirit. Strong, holy spirit. Beautifully enhanced from the nature around them, and the unique spirit she had grown accustomed to from Haven. Was this the love of God for his elect? This spiritual bliss. Romantically she couldn't complain. She was neither lonely either, and Shelandragh was also her salvation in many ways. An eternal friend and confidante she now believed. Special to her. The mother, in a way, which had gone from her years ago.

But God was always there. Watching her, she felt. Encouraging her heart, teaching her soul, loving her self. God. And he was good, she ultimately concluded. A kind and benevolent loving father, watching over her waking hours and guarding her sleeping dreams. God. What could she ever do without him?

She put the bible away, and laid down on her bed, and, just because, sang soft alleluias, and watched the trees blow in the breeze outside her window, and found the peace of nature and, she imagined, the peace of God. And it was bliss.

Chapter Four

Lucy sat on the sand, and watched the sprite wander about, the little faerie as playful as ever.

'Oooh, Lucy Smith. You do like that Daniel, don't you? Have you screwed him?'

'Minxy!' exclaimed Lucy. 'What a question to ask.'

'Oh, lighten up, you old fuddy duddy. What is life without a bit of the naughty. Boring. That's what it is, I tell you. God boring.'

'God's not boring,' smiled Lucy.

'Oh, for heaven's sake. Father lectures me occasionally on Sprite divine lore. God is the most boring being in creation.'

'He created, remember,' said Lucy.

'Yes. Boredom,' smirked Minxy.

Lucy grinned, despite herself.

'You know what else he created,' sparked the sprite.

'What?' asked Lucy.

'Farmers,' stated Minxy proudly.

'Here we go,' said Lucy.

'Take that current flock up there. Bridges. Still bloody Bridges. Don't they ever leave Chakola?'

'I don't think they ever will,' responded Lucy. 'They belong here, I think.'

'They are all the same, you know. Just like all those gone before them. David was boring enough. God, shear the sheep, fix the bloody water pump, milk the cow. Boring.'

'I am not sure if there ever were cows in David's day,' responded Lucy smiling.

'No. Because the cows died of boredom,' smarted Minxy.

'Very funny,' said Lucy.

'They don't change, you know. Farmers. Same old stupid conversations about political parties, and banks, and loans, and sheep. Always bloody sheep with the Bridges brothers. Jesus. They have no bloody imagination.'

'It's what they do well,' said Lucy.

'It's all they do well,' responded Minxy.

'Your too harsh,' said Lucy.

'Well, perhaps,' smiled Minxy. 'But at least Jayden was intelligent. Didn't take after the farm like his dad. Left that to silly little Blake.'

'I remember Blake,' said Lucy fondly. 'He was kind and true.'

'There all the same though, in the end. Boring. Boring, boring, boring.'

'And your the life of the party?' inquired Lucy gently.

'Exactly,' replied the sprite, and continued on dancing around in front of her.

Later on, back up at the old schoolhouse which had been converted, and was still essentially the same building which Lucy now owned, she looked over some of her old photos of the Bridges who had come and gone and her mother. Memories. Long and old memories of past friends, good friends. She sat there, somewhat melancholic, and cried after a while. Oh, to see them again. One day, she assumed. Inevitably one day. She would eventually get old – eventually. And go off, then, to the reward in the skies. To be reunited, once again, with lost loves and old and good friends. And, to quote Minxy, even boring ones. Even boring ones as well.

'You guys never get old,' said Minxy to the Extreme Kings, Cooma's worldwide smash rock and roll band of several years ago. They had since retired from the limelight but, having met Lucy Smith, found themselves getting older and older and older yet Summerland never really leaving them, ever, it would seem. They were still never getting old.

'One day, though, you finally will,' said Minxy.

'I'll take that as a compliment,' said the Bass Player.

'He'll die before me,' said the guitarist.

'I'll outlive you all,' replied the drummer.

'And Minxy will probably still be here a thousand years from now, having fun with your great-great etcetera grand-children,' said Lucy.

'Ooh, I hope so. But I don't think I have that long left. I am starting to show a little, you know. There are – slight wrinkles. Daddy is very old now, and doesn't really have long left. But I don't have forever, Lucy Smith. Even Sprites go off to their reward one day.'

'And what is that reward?' asked the Bass player.

'The same as everyone who inherits life eternal. Echoes of life, forever and ever and ever. But every time through, every time we repeat, we continue to learn more and, you know what? So our lore teaches us? You enjoy it more and more every time, even when you have gone over it countless times. Everything you know and treasure becomes immeasurably dear to you. It is life eternal, and it always was the plan of God for it to be a happy one.'

'Fascinating,' said the drummer. 'Tell me more.'

And so Minxy entertained the Extreme Kings all that day with tales from her lore and their beliefs as Sprites, and the band sat listening all day, and Lucy sat there too, lost in her own world of thoughts, about the future, about life and about good friendships. Elect friendships which also had endured the test of time.

Aro sat in his Italian abode. The victim was blindfolded, seated on a chair, awaiting his kidnappers next move.

'What do you want with me?' he finally asked, as his gag had been removed.

'Take him to the turtle room. Undo his hands, and put him at the far end. See if he has any intellect.'

The kidnappers responded to Aro's command, and took the victim to the end of the large hall and opened a complex looking door, which opened into a blue room, with water in the bottom of it, with a spiked pole running along the centre of the room above the water. On the far end of the room was a platform. The kidnappers, thought, hooked themselves into a rail which ran along the top of the room, and pushed a button, as they three of them were hauled to the stand on the opposite side of the room. They undid the victim's hands, and left him there on the stand, returned the way they came, and closed the door.

Daniel, sensing they had gone, took off his blindfold. 'Fuck,' he swore, looking around the room. He looked down, into the water, and there seemed to be creatures at the bottom of it. There were no exits, but across the spiked pole at the other side of the room, from which they had brought him in, was a metal door with intricate looking locks on it. He stood, realized it was probably a challenge, and started carefully making his way across the pole. It wobbled a little, and turned a little, but he made it, avoiding the spikes.

He looked at the locks. There were dials which had numbers, and between each set of 7 dials was a number between them. This could take a while, he thought.

17 hours later he had gone through various ideas, and was thirsty, but the water looked too distasteful to drink. Finally he assumed the number between the dials was the total number of each lock. And, after another 7 hours of combination adjustments, thirsty as anything, he slipped the final dial into the solution, and the door suddenly cranked open.

He walked through, and was in the room he had come from. Aro was at his desk, writing, and there was a lady he didn't recognize sitting next to him.

He came in gingerly, only clothed in his T-Shirt and shorts, with no footwear, and looked at Aro, he looked at him briefly, and returned to his notes. Daniel looked at him and realized the truth – they could do what they wanted with him if they wanted to. He looked around, saw a bench against the wall, and sat down. And waited.

Kristen Stewart looked at Daniel half a dozen times over the next hour and, finally, touched Aro's shoulder gently. 'Well?' she asked him.

Aro looked at her. 'Oh, for heaven's sake. Take him then. We were only having a little fun. Pity you don't appreciate it,' he said with a smirk.

'Daly is very soft,' she replied. 'He has never threatened any of your kind, and never would. You should leave him be.'

Aro looked at Daniel briefly, considered him, and then returned to his notes.

Kristen stood and waved at Daniel to come over.

'Come with me,' she said, and led him outside.

'Its a north Italian village,' she said. 'Do you need any more info than that?'

He looked at her. He didn't know her at all, but something seemed almost familiar.

'No,' he responded and, walking down to the water spire, sipped, waved goodbye to her, and turned northward. He would walk to the UK.

A number of weeks later he was in the flat he owned in London, having a shower and, clean, came out and checked the flat safe. He found some spare ATM debit cards with what would be considerable spare cash in each account, rang Lucy at home, who finally answered later that night.

'Where the hell are you?' she asked him.

'London. It was Aro. Having fun again. He's done this twice now. His idea of a practical joke. I met a lady. She seemed familiar, but I've never met her before. She might be very old also.'

'You coming home?' Lucy asked him.

'Next week. Seeing as I am here, I'm going to Hull for a short holiday. Watch a soccer match and see some relatives.'

'Don't take forever,' said Lucy.

'I won't,' responded Daniel.

'Magic – is Eternal,' said Alfric, puffing on his favourite pipe.

'So our jobs are secure,' responded Darren Merryweather, sitting by the window of Alfric's office in the Canberra Ministry of Magic.

'For the time being. Yet we are in a conundrum – an eternal conundrum. The Ministry of Magic was formed long ago to regulate the affairs of wizards and witches in the old world. To, as it were, bring an aura of respectability to what had become viewed as the domain of evil, the devil of the faith.'

'We draw on Dark Magic,' responded Darren. 'We all know this, deep down. That it is far from divine, the power we use. Yet we use it for good, despite the apparent contradiction.'

'Yet not all of us,' responded Alfric. 'The world these days is beset with figures and organisations which use the power to further no good, but their own ends. And it would seem it is the responsibility of the Ministry of Magic to watch over this and fight against it. We are attempting to make life easier for people with our skills, when they seek us out for employ. Not turn them over to slavery to our will.'

'The Hellfire League. As an example,' prompted Darren.

'And those of Celestevere and the other nethers who still prey upon the children of men.'

'Yet those are fallen,' responded Darren. 'We were born with these gifts within us, inherited from our parents. The netherworld plunged headfirst into the temptations of the Dark Magic.'

'They ate the whole of the forbidden fruit,' said Alfric, and momentarily touched the bible on his desk.

Darren looked squarely at Alfric. 'What are you driving at?'

'The Circle of the Rainbow Coven,' said Alfric.

'And what is that?' asked Darren.

'An idea. An idea I have for the completion of our task. For the winning of our task.'

'Do you care to explain?'

'I have prayed,' said Alfric. 'To God. And put my request to him in writing, and burned it upon an altar in my back yard in Deakin. It had 14 names on it. 14 of the elect ones among us who have survived still to this day. Us of the Aged.'

'And they are the Circle of the Rainbow Coven?' asked Darren.

Alfric nodded.

'And their task?' queried Darren.

And Alfric looked at Darren, and smiled, and touched his bible once more gently, yet spoke not one word more.

Lucy sat with Minxy on the sand of the Chakolan fjord, looking out over the countless grains of sand. She sat there, and she felt it. A spirit. An old spirit in the place, hauntingly familiar. A spirit which had been created from though, philosophy, deep contemplation of life and appreciation of God's creation.

'That's Daniel,' said Minxy softly.

'Huh?' asked Lucy.

'I know what you are thinking, Lucy. I can sense your thoughts, sort of. Your aura is making it clear what you are thinking about, and I notice certain familiar energy patterns.'

'I'm not thinking about Daniel,' she said to the sprite.

'You just don't know it. I remember. When he was here. It was before we got active with you, before you were even around hardly. I think he was younger, in his youth sort of, and when Brigid and David had been together just a while. He was down here on the farm, probably having a schizophrenic episode, and he came out here one day. Sat on the sand, and I felt him. It was just like it is around here, and he was perfectly one with the place. And then came in thoughts of God and nature and birds and creation. And spirit – deep spirit. So deep, with a dark undertone of the depression and darkness he had obviously been through. It was so intense. So real. I still feel him, that spirit, wandering around here from time to time. I sense him. And when I see him these days I can tell him still. He's changed, grown older, a lot happier and a lot cheekier. Matured as well. But its still the same Daniel. The same thinker. The same introspection. Its why I love him.'

'You love Daniel?'

'Oh, don't be silly. Not in any way like that. More as a respect for another person. He's wonderful on that deep stuff. Very polished thinker. Shy, in his heart, and nervous about tougher people, especially men. So sensitive. But so deep and thoughtful. He's great to be around.'

'Oh,' said Lucy. 'I have noticed certain things about him.'

'Talk to him sometime. Deeper. Not just superficially. There are reasons for why he is so religious and why he thinks the way he does.'

'I might do that,' said Lucy, and stretched out on the sand.

Beetles ran across her legs, but she didn't mind, as she gazed up at the clouds, and a light shower of rain ran across her. 'Life is good, you know Minx. I don't know, why I am saying this really. Perhaps I am still too young too appreciate it, and in ways I feel so young. Like I am still the witch Lucy Smith, pupil of Shelandragh May, who will one day grow up, but for now is full of spells and books and adventures. But I have grown up, you know. I'm not a little girl anymore. And while so many have gone from my life, off to the great beyond, I feel different for those experiences and different from the rush of fancy I went through growing up. Its not fancy any more. You know. Life. Its not about fancy shmancy, and this and that boyfriend, and even having cool adventures and being a most remarkable witch. Its not about that. Oh, I suppose it can be, if that is what you are looking for and if that is what you are into. I do defend my youth ok. But, I don't know...' she trailed off.

'You are growing up,' said Minxy.

Lucy looked at the sprite. 'Yes. I guess so. Growing up,' she repeated.

'It happens to all of us Lucy Smith. Even one as humble as yourself.'

'Thank you Minxy the Sprite,' she said kindly.

'But I still like the boyfriend bit,' sparkled the sprite, and flew up into the sky, and exploded a lightstorm.

'And I am sure you always will,' said Lucy Smith, and giggled and laughed and laid on her back, happy with everything, happy with Minxy the Sprite and happy with the world.

Chapter 5

Laura Canterbury was a dedicated fan of the Canterbury Bankstown Bulldogs Rugby League side, but only because she was born there, she told people often. Not because of the similar names. Yet she now resided in Cooma, Cooma North to be precise, and was a happy and content 23 year old young woman, in a new town to live life again after some unfortunate encounters in Sydney with boys and their friends which were not in her best interest. Her father had died when she was younger, and her mother was full of depression and drugs and was no good to her and so her sister, who had to take her in said to her one day, 'You gotta run away. To live again. This place will kill you. Henry takes care of me, but those boys you are running with with kill you in the end, sweetie. Marco is lovely, but his mates. Jesus Christ! If they are not in fact mafia, I don't know who is.'

So Laura packed her bag, and kissed her sis, and dropped by her mothers who was too wasted to say anything, and headed for the Central network of trains, and went on a trip.

She ended up in Canberra hours later, and then decided to take a bus further south. The bus stopped at Cooma on its first stop, so she got off, liked a cafe, and decided not to reboard. And there she sat, in the cafe, $200 on her, her suitcase with a change of clothes, and not much else. Just last year.

Today she rented a small flat on Sharp Street which was not too expensive, covered by her Jobsearch allowance from Centrelink, because there never was any work in Cooma, but the rents were affordable. She filled in the form faithfully and lived in her flat and watched her TV till just two weeks ago. Then she met Daniel, who offered her a room in his Cooma North abode, because she had taken an interest in Haven Noahide Fellowship, and the two of them had chatted about this and that, Laura mostly impressed with his ancient collection of Bulldogs trading cards, which must be worth millions she thought to herself. She didn't really know his age. He never really said.

'What is Haven to you, Lucy?' asked Laura.

Lucy looked at their flatmate. 'Something different from the regular. But, these days, the only surviving religion practically anyway. So much worldliness now. So much hatred of God practically, even to mention his name.'

'Aussies don't care about that shit,' said Laura. 'Its old fable. Evolution is fact now, and sin rules.'

'Oh, God. Don't be a fundamentalist,' said Lucy. 'I know people have chosen lifestyles which aren't for the best, but use the 'S' word and its nothing but trouble.'

'The bible is clear,' said Laura. 'That is what it is.'

Lucy began a sermon. 'Life progresses. History moves on. The history of the bible is the spiritual history of that period. But there is more factual and more true history beyond that. Not every spiritual paradigm was represented in that work. There is more to life than whales and lions, dear Laura.'

'Very funny,' said Laura, but smarted a bit from her newborn zeal for the Word.

'Don't be too extreme or you will never get along. Don't compromise your faith, sure. But learn to have a bit of grease to oil the engine, and grease is dirty stuff, ok. Don't be too puritanical or everyone will hate you. That itself is a religious truth we all have come to know.'

Laura looked at Lucy quizzically. 'You seem to talk from a lot of experience.'

'I've been around,' replied Miss Smith.

'Ok. I'll level off a little. Sorry if I offended you.'

'Oh, you didn't offend me Laura Canterbury. Its just that I know many people who you just might tick off, and you wouldn't want that now would you?'

Laura thought on her friends in Sydney and nodded softly.

'Then how do you live your faith?' asked the girl to Lucy.

'By learning what works and what doesn't. By being patient and true and faithful. By being merciful and loving, yet keeping the commands of God and walking with him each day. By keeping the faith in the long walk, Laura Canterbury. By keeping the faith in the long walk.'

'Then that is what I will do,' said Laura, and Lucy looked as the girl lit a cigarette, turned to the TV, and lost interest in the conversation, but with a confidence and a knowingness which Lucy Smith found all too familiar.

Decadence was in a mood. 'I can defeat Damien,' she said to Lucy. 'I know it. The power is within me.'

Lucy, sitting in her Cooma address, smoking a cigarette, looked over at the ambitious girl. 'Sometimes, I think, while I was green once, I wasn't stupid. You don't want to mess with Damien Darvanius, Decadence.'

'She's being stupid,' said Laura, looking at her cards in the game of Whist the 4 of them were engaged in.

'She's young and ambitious, aren't you dear,' said Shelandragh, also looking at her cards.

'She's perfect for Haven, then,' said Daniel. 'New blood always means new life, and often a bit of excitement. But don't mess with Darvanius, Decadence. You will find he's a nasty piece of work.'

'Aren't you all bothered by his presence. His constant ability to be able to threaten you all? I would have that dealt with – once and for all,' said the young and ambitious Jane.'

Lucy spoke up. 'We ARE dealing with him. The elect are working him over and we are getting towards a conclusion of things in time. We have eternity ahead of us to deal with Damien,' she responded, puffed on her ciggie, drank some Coke, and looked at her cards.

'All so bloody confident. I'm gonna teach him a lesson.'

'It would be interesting to see who learns their lesson,' said Daniel, and borrowed a ciggie of Lucy's and lit up.

'Yeh, it will,' said Jane, and her idea ticked over yet one more time.

Lucy continued walking up Mittagong road. It was beautiful weather, and magpies were all around, some tempted to swoop her, but she was experienced at dealing with them. Swooping magpies happened a lot in Cooma. It had been a busy enough week and she was working at the moment in one of the cafes on Sharp Street for a few months, just to do something new for a while. Laura had been hanging around most days, as had Jane, but Jane wasn't there that morning, so she decided to walk up the road to Danny's to see if she was with him.

She walked up the road, and noticed the sign turning off to Bradley Street and Cooma North. Michael Bradley used to live at Number 6, and she could see the house just from where she was. Funnily, in the 1980s, Daniel also lived at the same address, for he grew up in Berridale and then Cooma. But it was a small town, a small world in many ways and she was used to many coincidences now. She often wondered what happened to Michael Bradley, how he ended up. She'd never really seen him after a certain point and life just drifted on. But that was what it was like – life. Drifts on. Things come in and become dreams, and so do other things and while some dreams live on, some dreams die. But that was just life. You want along with the eternal, which is why she went with Daniel now. He was eternal. She believed this. It was the Rainbow Covenant – an Eternal Covenant – and she would never shift from that truth. All other religions were forgotten now, for she was grounded on Karaite Noahide faith and the the Rainbow Bibles, and would stick with them for all eternity. All her prayers had been built on this foundation and she was happy. She would never leave it now.

She continued up the road, passed the various schools, and got to Daniel's house. The door was open, and she found Daniel in the kitchen drinking coffee.

'You seen Decadence?' she asked casually.

He shook his head.

Lucy looked at him. 'Well?' she asked him.

'I don't know. Maybe she is at her place.'

'Oh, fuck it. Ok, can you drive me. I walked.'

'Sure,' he said, sipping on his coffee. When they got to Jane's place, it was empty, with nobody home.

'Where is she?' asked a perplexed Lucy.

'Let's try the town,' said Daniel.

After a few hours of searching in vain, they agreed to go to Shelandragh's. That should have been one of the first places to check. They had tried her mobile many times, but Jane had not answered.

They got to Bunyan, and Shelandragh just looked at them with a confused look on her face.

Daniel looked at Lucy, suddenly remembering a conversation. 'She hasn't, has she? Gone off Devil hunting?'

'Oh, for Jesus' sake,' said Shelandragh. 'Come inside. I need to think.'

They called Laura first of all, who said she hadn't seen her, and then they began to worry.

After some consideration, Shelandragh suggested a Septacle be formed to locate the girl. As the afternoon wore on, Lucy was growing in concern, but tried to calm down watching the afternoon TV lying against Daniel, who seemed ever more comforting.

Shelandragh came in around 6 and said the Septacle was ready and that they would start at Midnight.

'I have a bad feeling,' said Lucy, 'that she is not in the best of places. A really bad feeling, Shellie.'

'Don't worry,' said Shelandragh May. 'Just trust, you know. Just trust.'

Midnight – they began the work of the spell – and when Shelandragh came out of it, she looked a them both. 'Hellfire League Castle!' she said, and instantly vomited on the ground.

They were all gathered in Canberra, at Alfric's place. 'I go. Alone,' said Lucy. First to Jonathon's. Then I will be back here soon. Don't do anything, ok. He wants me. He has always wanted me.'

Daniel spoke up. 'Then don't you think you should be the last person we surrender to him?'

'That's life, isn't it Danny. It has a fate to it. A destiny. We can't always escape it. We never really can, in the end. It catches us up when it needs to. We may delay things for a while, but destiny always has the last word. I'll be ok. Back before you know it.'

The gathered ones were sombre, and as Lucy went, Daniel went to the front window, and watched as she drove away. 'God be with you, Luce,' he said softly. 'God be with you.'

Yet she didn't go to Jonathon's. She went straight to the Hellfire League castle. It was open, and as she wandered in she couldn't help but believe it was a trap. Suddenly the Jester appeared.

'You again. Freak,' said Lucy.

'Lucy, Lucy, Lucy. What a fine maiden we have for our entertainment. Gosh, I'm glad you showed up sweetheart. What would we do without you?'

'Were's Decadence?'

'Humph. I would have worried more about my own flesh and blood, but fair enough.'

Lucy ignored that statement.

'Follow me,' said the Jester, and led her on pathway into the heart of the Hellfire League castle.

When they had travelled down into the guts of the castle, they came to a room, and entered. The queen was there, with a child. And suddenly Lucy recognized it. 'JENNY!' she screamed. 'Give me my child!' she yelled at the Queen.

The King sudden was in front of her.

'Now, now, Lucy Smith. I told you we would have the final say. If you want your child back, challenge me.'

Lucy glared at the King.

'Does the maiden Challenge?' asked the Jester?'

'The maiden challenges,' responded Lucy, looking with concern towards her child.

'Read this,' said the Jester, and flicked a booklet at her with 'Rules' written on the cover. 'You can sit there. In the corner,' said the Jester. 'Your kid is fine. Read the rules, and then we have our fun.'

And as Lucy read, keeping a careful eye on Jenny, who did seem to be mostly ok, she knew that her fate depended on her understanding what she was reading, so she concentrated, and read, and tried her best to understand the complex game of life she had suddenly found herself dealing with.

Chapter Six

Time was ticking.

'I have you,' said Lucy, smiling at the King of the Hellfire League. 'You only have one move left, and then I can checkmate you. You have to make it as well.'

'It would appear so, young Lucy. But, dare I say, did you read the rules?'

'I read them,' she responded.

'And how much time do we each have per move?'

She thought about it. '7 minutes, as I recall.'

'And how much time is left on the game clock?'

She looked at him, suddenly nervous, and looked at the clock.

'Six and a half minutes,' she responded.

'And in the case of a draw?' he smiled, looking at his opponent.

She didn't know. She picked up the rule book and, coming to the passage, read:

'In the case of a Draw, the challenger to the King acknowledges, in their own signed blood, they agree to the King retaining his prize for a period no less than 12 years. Further, the challenger may be made an example of, in the customary manner, yet not unto any pain or death.'

'Bastard,' she said, as the king lit his cigar, and the time ran out.

Jenny, over in the corner, being nursed by the queen, burped, and cried a little, but was subdued by the queen.

'But, she's my baby,' said Lucy forlornly.

'In 12 years,' responded the King. 'You will honour our agreement, won't you?'

Lucy looked at the signed document, signed with her own blood. She glared at him, yet acquiesced. 'I will,' she finally said, defeated.

And, as the time ran out, the King gathered up his robes. 'I believe you are at our good pleasure.'

Silence, as the Queen nursed Jenny, and the King smoked his cigar.

'What?' Lucy finally screamed, dejected.

'Them,' said the King, indicating with his thumb.

And there stood Damien Darvanius, Lucifer Darvanius and the Malevolent Grimlock. Lucy almost swore.

'You have 10 minutes, and they have a spell on you,' said the King. 'A tracker. You can't hide, now. So go. Get.'

Lucy glared at the King and, giving one last forlorn look at Lucy, looked at the Dark lords of evil, and skidaddled.

Out in the outer chamber she cast her relocate portal spell, and found herself at Alfric's in Canberra, in his lounge. Shelandragh, Darren, Daniel and Alfric were all there, and Alexander Darvanius was seated, chatting pleasantly, so it seemed.

'Heaven's above!' exclaimed Shelandragh. 'Where the hell have you been, Lucy?'

'No time to explain,' said Lucy. 'They have a tracking spell on me.'

'Who?'

'Who else,' she responded.

'Mmm. We need to get to a high place. Above the general wavelengths of magic in Canberra. It's not as old here. Hasn't built up yet. We can void the tracking spell if we get high enough,' said Alfric.

'Where?' Lucy asked.

Alfric turned his head, as all did, and they gazed, northwards from Deakin, up towards the Centre of Canberra. Towards Black Mountain. And the tower – Telstra tower – which loomed over the city.

As they drove, hurriedly, Daniel sat nervously next to Lucy in their Car.

'Don't worry, Luce,' he said. 'They won't get you. Not again.'

'They already have,' she said dejectedly, thinking on Jenny. And, breaking the speed limit, Lucy drove ahead of those following, making it to the tower with Daniel first.

They stood in the carpark, near the entrance, waiting.

'No time,' said Lucy. 'I think I know what to do anyway,' and they entered the building, which was very quiet that Sunday afternoon, barely a soul in sight, and took the lift to the main deck.

And there, as they came into the large cafeteria, stood Decadence.

'How did you get here?' Lucy asked her.

From the side, they came into view. 'We brought her,' said Damien Darvanius.

Lucy glared at Lucifer Darvanius. 'Loyal. Yeh right, Lucifer. You never gave a damn.'

He just shrugged.

Daniel stood in front of Lucy, acting bravely, but Grimlock came forward and, after a tussle, banged Daniel on the head, who went down, unconscious.

Lucy pointed her wand and cast a fireball spell, and Decadence broke loose, running out to the lookout.

'We have something planned for you,' said Damien. 'Something I have been planning a long time. And, he glared at her, yet turned, and went out to the balcony, leaving Lucy with Grimlock and the rest.

'You can't escape, bitch,' said Grimlock.

'We have you at last,' said Zoldarius, glaring at her.

Suddenly, out on the balcony, a huge explosion, and the whole barrier was blown away which guarded the edge of the lookout. Lucy ran.

Decadence stood there, and it had started raining, and the sky was getting suddenly dark.

'Where is he?' Lucy asked.

Decadence pointed. Damien had climbed up to an upper rampart which surrounded the tower a little higher up, and had his hands raised.

Suddenly, the wind went wild and orange and red sparks started flying wildly from Damien's hands, towards the north. And then, you could see it. In the distance. A vortex opening up in the north, flickering red and orange.

'I think, this is it,' said Decadence. 'The devil's final move. I suppose you will have to take it from here. Animus is finished. It can't fight Damien. It never could.'

Lucy nodded.

It always came down to this in the end. Lucy versus the dark lords of evil. Always her in the end. Always.

She looked up at Damien, and started following, climbing up a ladder, and getting ready, in her heart, for the final confrontation.

For the final wrath of Darkness.

Decadence watched as Lucy climbed, and prayed a silent prayer for her.

'You think that will work?' asked a voice.

Decadence turned.

It was Alexander. Somehow he had gotten ahead of the others, and stood there, for his final victory perhaps. For his final gloat.

'Go to hell, Alexander!' she yelled at him, but he said nothing, and just lit a cigarette, taking in the view.

'Finally!' yelled Shelandragh, as they came into the carpark.

'Where are they?' queried Darren.

'There,' said Alfric, pointing upwards.

Up, above them, the wind was howling madly and the rain was getting more and more fierce, and it was turning dark. And there, up at the top of the tower, Damien Darvanius, hand's raised, wild and dark magic spewing forth from him, summoning a great beast. A great maelstrom.

They looked northwards, and it was slowly approaching. Dark red and orange, with black from the deepest parts of hell. Slowly approaching the tower. Slowly approaching for the final wrath of Satan.

'We have to get up there,' yelled Darren.

'I know,' said Shelandragh, but in her heart she knew. This was it. Lucy's final test. Lucy's final challenge.

Lucy had climbed up and was on the other side of the rampart, looking at Damien. He glared at her from time to time, but was concentrating on his work. She turned, and looked northwards. A maelstrom. A maelstrom of cold dark hate. All the years of anger. All the years of darkness. All the years of wrath.

Damien Darvanius's final vengeance.

She looked at it and looked at Damien and, for once, almost pitied him. Almost pitied the cold hard soul which knew nothing of love, nothing of kindness, nothing of truth.

'Poor Damien,' she thought to herself. 'Poor Damien. Poor, poor, Damien.'

Decadence stood on the edge of the platform. The whole barrier that guarded the lookout section had been blown away by Damien's dark magic, and he was still there, on the tower above, hands raised skywards. The wind and rain had been getting even more furious, and slowly the dark maelstrom from the north was approaching. The lightning storm was getting more and more majestic, and as the maelstrom approached, orange and dark red flickering bolts started emerging from it.

'You die, Lucy!' shouted the devil at his adversary.

Lucy stood her ground on the other side of the small rampart which ran around the tower, staring fiercely at her greatest nemesis.

Alexander continued to smoke his cigarette, gazing up at Damien, and looked over at Decadence. 'The bastard was too much for you, wasn't he? You thought you had him worked out. That you could control that Animus within you, but it's no fucking match for the dark magic. Not if you want to get serious sweetheart.'

'Fuck you!' shouted Decadence, at Alexander, but he just grinned at her, enjoying the show.

Grimlock came out onto the platform, and gazed at the girl. 'Kill her,' he said to Alexander.

Alexander looked at him. 'Mmm. No. Not my code. I'm here to watch Damien claim his belated victory. If he can.'

Grimlock glared evil at him, and looked at Decadence. 'Then I'll kill the bitch.'

Down at the entrance to the tower, Darren, Alfric and Shelandragh were doing their best, but couldn't find any way to open the door, and magic wasn't working.

'It's just too fierce,' said Shelandragh. 'To rise up with a broomstick won't work. His magic is just too fierce.'

'He's the Lord of Evil,' said Darren. 'What do you expect?'

Lucifer came out onto the platform, then, and looked as Grimlock approached his girl.

'Don't try and stop me,' said Grimlock. 'I know you have feelings for her now.'

Lucifer didn't say anything, but just watched. Daniel, still nursing the blow to the head from Grimlock, emerged also, and looked at his enemy, approaching Decadence. And he looked at Lucifer.

'So, Darvanius. When it all comes down to it, you really are evil, aren't you?'

Lucifer looked at him, and looked at Decadence. He loved her. He knew it. But his allegiance to Damien was ancient.

Daniel grabbed Grimlock, when a bolt from Zoldarius sent him flying through the air, as the Dark Lord emerged onto the platform.

'You won't win, you know,' said Lucy, wand ready, glaring at Damien. 'Evil never wins. In the end. It never does. You could kill me, you know. You could kill all of us.'

'And I will,' said Damien, glaring at her.

'Yes. You might. But even then you won't win. Someone will rise up. A champion. And send you to hell. It always happens. Always.'

He glared at her, and looked upwards, spending his ancient wrath of dark magic on the approaching maelstrom.

Down below Darren had grabbed a crowbar from the van and had managed to get the ground door open. The lift was no use, so they climbed the stairs.

'Ready to die?' Grimlock queried Decadence.

'Not before you,' she replied, spitting on the ground in front of her.

'She is a feisty one,' said Zoldarius.

Alexander watched on, amused.

'You know. I pity you, Damien,' said Lucy. 'You don't really know much love, do you? You probably never really cared much about anyone, did you?'

'The domain of God and his angels,' replied Damien. 'Not my style.'

'No. No, it wouldn't be.'

He glared at her, as the maelstrom continued to approach, the cascading darkness and lightstorm seen all around Canberra.

'It's never too late, though,' she continued. 'To admit it. That you need somebody. That you need – love.'

Damien looked at her. 'It's for fools,' he said, eventually, in a softer tone. 'I did, once, Lucy. But she went from me. Love dies in the end. It always has. Always will.'

'Then love again,' she said to him.

Alexander finished his cigarette, started another one, when Shelandragh, Darren and Alfric emerged.

'You know, at the end of it all. When you have done all your evil, and had all your wicked way, what then? Who will be your friend? Lucifer? Zoldarius? Alexander? You will only end up killing each other. There's a better way. There always has been.'

'Shut up,' said Damien.

'Just let it go. All the hate in you. All the evil. All the resentment of God. Just let it go. It only eats at you. Only eats at your heart, and all the supposed truths you believe in, that make Damien Darvanius tick.'

'Babe. If you only knew,' he said, and renewed his focus on the maelstrom.

'Then tell me,' she said.

He looked at her.

'Drop it,' said Darren, aiming his wand at Zoldarius.

'You can't take both of us,' said Alfric.

Zoldarius considered his foes, and lowered his wand.

Decadence managed to get to her feet, and glared at Grimlock, as Shelandragh slowly came and stood next to her. 'It's over, Grimlock,' she said, looking at him.

He growled at her, but made no move.

Alexander looked on amused.

'Evil is all I know,' said Damien. 'It's all I serve. And I gave up caring a long time ago, Lucy Smith. There is no point, in the end. It's an idiots game, and I may as well get my kicks before the Most High one finally gets sick of me once and for all.'

'Then get over it,' she said. 'And try again. Try letting that light in, that you have pushed away for so long.'

He looked at her, long and hard he looked at her, and then lowered his arms.

The maelstrom continued whirling, fiercely, but gradually, as Damien sank to his knees, it started receeding.

'What's his problem?' queried Zoldarius, looking up at the display.

'She's got to him,' said Shelandragh.

'Nonsense,' said Zoldarius, but looked cautiously at Shelandragh.

In the mind of Damien Darvanius a decision had been made. It wasn't about what Lucy had said. Nothing like that. It was a decision, made in the last number of years, that, in the end, evil didn't really have much point either. God was a shmuck, but the Devil was no better. His own sense of ethic, if you could call it that, served no great purpose. And he didn't even get a kick out of it anymore.

He looked at Lucy. 'You win,' he said, and cast a portal spell in front of them.

'Where are you going?' Lucy asked him.

The Devil gave one last look at his adversary. 'Away from here, Lucy Smith. And I don't know if I will see you again. For I don't know if I even care any more.'

And a tear formed in Damien's eye as he looked at the girl who taught him the final lesson in his repentance, stepped through the portal, and was gone.

'Humph,' said Zoldarius.

'She got to him,' said Grimlock.

The two dark lords of evil looked at their adversaries and then, Zoldarius gathering up his pride, lifted his cloak, walked past Shelandragh and Darren, and with Grimlock following, the two of them were never seen again.

'We let them go,' queried Darren.

'They're a spent force,' said Shelandragh. 'I don't think they will be much of a threat any more.'

'Thank God for that,' said Daniel, nursing a broken arm, but grinning none the less.

'Do you have anything to say?' Alfric asked Alexander.

'I have not interfered in these proceedings. Just came to watch.'

'We know,' said Shelandragh, as she looked up at Lucy who was climbing down the tower.

'You could have intervened,' said Darren to Alexander.

'If I really thought any actions were necessary, I might have done something. It seems to have resolved itself.'

Lucy ran up to Decadence, and hugged her.

'Have we seen the last of him, then?' Shelandragh asked her.

Lucy Smith looked at Shelandragh May, and looked at Lucifer, standing there, not seeming to be threatening anybody. 'What the hell is your problem, huh?' she asked him.

Lucifer walked over to Decadence, kissed her on the cheek, and smiled at Lucy.

'You know me, Babe. A devil to the end.' But he winked at her, and pinched Decadence's butt, who hit him in the arm, and as they made their way back inside the tower, he turned to Lucy, gave her a wink, and you could hear his laughter trail off, as the show came to an end.

Lucy noticed Daniel's broken arm. 'Oh, Danny,' she said, suddenly concerned.

'I'm ok,' he said.

'Shall I?' she asked, holding her wand ready to heal him.

'I'll be ok. Natural healing. You know me.'

'Don't I,' she responded.

'Well that ends that,' said Darren and, as the maelstrom disappeared back north from whence it came, normality returned to central Canberra and, as Lucy Smith drove her man home, who was sitting in the front seat next to her, she smiled and thought on Damien and his final choice.

For perhaps Lucifer had indeed been redeemed.

Perhaps.

Chapter Seven

Dark Days. Lonely days. Heavy days. Sad days.

'I miss her,' she said.

'I know,' responded Daniel.

'Why a Cathedral?'

'Why not,' responded Daniel.

'You haven't enough converts,' stated Lucy flatly.

'Actually. I do. There are 457 in the Monaro.'

She looked at him, for once surprised.

'Well they certainly don't come to fellowship hall.'

'That is just Haven Noahide. The other's don't have a hall. It's been quiet on that.'

'Where?'

'Springstone. It's a property I own. Formerly known as Cloyne. I bought it several years ago.'

'I know Cloyne,' she responded. 'Roses.'

'Yes. There's room for a Cathedral. I will call it Springstone Cathedral. It is where 7DF will assemble.'

'Mmm,' she nodded.

Dark Days. Lonely days. Heavy days.

Sad days.

The Cathedral, now completed after 3 years of building, was quite impressive. It had been an overtime project, with a gazillion employees from all over the world, all working in harmony, all working to get the job done quickly.

'Took em centuries, once,' said Daniel.

'I know,' responded Lucy.

'You're sad,' he said.

'I miss her.'

'7 more years,' he replied.

'She won't even remember me,' said Lucy.

'She will. She will know. They always do. In the end.'

They sat in the Cathedral, 14 weeks, each morning, Daniel and Lucy came and prayed. Nobody else. Then the first assembly. Over 500 in attendance. It was – intense.

But she would not be consoled.

Laura started the conversation. 'You know, Lucy. Life goes on. Cheer up. It has its down time, yes. But there are good days. She'll be back before you can blink.'

'Rebecca,' said Lucy.

Laura looked at her two year old playing in the playground of the Cathedral.

'She will always know you. My Jenny. She won't. I feel it. In my heart. She's gone from me. Her love has left me. Found another home.'

Laura put her arm around Lucy's shoulder. And then the tears came. And they did not stop.

Lucy looked at the Cathedral. It was late in the afternoon, and the sun was setting. She had juice. Apple juice with her, and a snack. She wasn't hungry. But she drank the juice and sat there. Silent. Quiet.

The wind blew. Warm and gentle, late Spring wind. And everything was peaceful. Everything was good.

'You miss her,' said a voice inside her.

'Like nothing else.'

'You gave your word, though.'

She did not reply.

'Very well. It is broken on your behalf.'

Lucy did not know who was talking inside her, but felt better. A wave of love ran over her, and she sat there, in the wind, the gentle wind, and looked at the Cathedral. It was beautiful. An old design, with gargoyles and archangels. But it was beautiful.

'Mummy?'

Lucy turned. The girl looked about 8.

'Mummy?' she queried. Then Daniel let her go, and she walked over to Lucy.

Lucy watched, as the child sat down on her knee, and rested on her. She looked at Jenny. She looked at her daughter.

And then she looked at the Cathedral, and then Daniel, and then Jenny again.

'I asked him nicely. The King. Said they were finished with her.'

Lucy nodded, softly.

Then she held her child.

And softly wept.

And softly wept.

And softly wept.

THE END

Judgement Day

Chapter One

6019 SC

Daniel Rothchild, upon his 70th birthday, was confessed to look only about 50 by his wife Jessica, similar to the age he proclaimed of her. The two of them now had a few wrinkles proclaiming their age, but their general wellbeing, considering how healthy their lifestyle had been, had always made people assume they were much younger then they actually were. And Daniel still had yet to gain a grey hair, which almost scared Jessica in its freakiness.

That year Daniel, with Jessica, and his brother David and the wife David finally married, Justine, visited Israel on a one year sabbatical. David and Justine were both 38, but youthfulness ran with them as well, looking barely 25 both of them.

In Israel, in the kibbutz the two couples had joined, David gradually built up a number of close friendships. After only 3 months, when the elder of the kibbutz died, people unanimously asked David if he would like to take over and run the kibbutz, so popular had he become. David, while he had not really noticed himself, was incredibly friendly and loving, so strict had he been on himself in his Torah lecturing towards himself – and as a result, so many others looked to him as a personification of a real gentleman, a man of holiness, and one who could be implicitly trusted and deemed trustworthy. And they were not mistaken in this trust either.

Justine, through the ongoing discussions with David, had gravitated towards the Jewish perspective on God, but retained her Christian faith in many ways. She kept kosher, attended synagogue on Sabbath with David, and kept the feast laws very closely. But her heart remained loyal and true to her church, and as time passed in their marriage, David growing used to the many Christian conversations centred around the Baptist church, he stopped objecting to her faith. He accepted it. He'd had, in truth, one problem with Christianity – the deification of Jesus as equal with God. Yet Justine had spoken to him carefully stating she no longer believed Jesus was God – not in the same way Yahweh the Father was. She believed him divine, in a sense, the pre-existing word of God. But she had come to the Unitarian perspective on Christianity which David was familiar with. And thus, in a spirit of charity, David accepted her faith and did not object to her teaching it to their children, the first of which was to be born soon.

For David, Justine was satisfactorily Jewish enough in faith and practice – she accepted the Torah as God's word and followed its commands – and the Christian faith she clung to was not contradictory to Torah in the way Justine applied her Christian faith. He thus accepted her, and found that other modern Jewish thinkers in the kibbutz, those of religious persuasion, found the liberal spirit which had come upon the children of Israel in recent centuries sufficient to likewise accept Justine and her Jesus, a figure that, in truth, they were just as familiar with as Christians.

They'd all heard the gospel – many times many of them. They were not Christian, they were Jewish, but it had become such a part of the planets culture, in a way they could not escape, that so many now simply called Jesus Christ for politeness sake.

But not all. By no means all. When Justine visited Jerusalem one day, reading through the papers they didn't get at their secluded Kibbutz, she saw firsthand how many of the Orthodox community disdained strongly the Christian presence in their homeland. They had not forgotten the centuries of persecution and discrimination they had suffered in Europe and even America at the hands of the Christian church. They had not forgotten and, now they were on their own turf again, were dedicated to ridding Israel of the scourge of Christianity. As such, for many years tensions had been high and Jerusalem had remained a cup of trembling for the nations.

Justine understood this. She had understood, through many conversation with her husband, the Jewish faith and the Jewish fears. And she regretted how the church, for so long, had rejected and despised God's son Israel, and felt a degree of shame.

Later on that day, in a Christian library, were she had gone to meet a Christian friend who had visited the synagogue once, she spoke briefly of the suffering Israel had gone through. And then her friend had showed her Isaiah, the passage of the suffering servant, and the many passages which called Israel the servant. And then she had read, again, Isaiah 53 and knowing who the servant was, and who had rejected the servant, she knew God was speaking to her heart. They, the church, had rejected Israel. They had rejected them and despised them for so long. And her friend carefully went through the scriptures with her, and showed her carefully that the way Christianity made the passage read to Jesus, that the context did not justify their interpretation. And, slowly, verse after verse, he showed how Israel was the one who had been rejected, and not Jesus, and that the idea within Isaiah 53 that it was a messianic prophecy was untrue. And then she had asked him why, him being a Christian, he would say such things. And he had replied that he was no longer of Christian faith. 'I am a Noahide, now, Justine. Christianity is finished with me.'

Later on Justine prayed to God and, finally, after so many months of refusing to do what David had occasionally asked of her, she asked Yahweh for the truth about Jesus and Christian faith. And the spirit pointed her to a passage, and she read it. 'I am the LORD, that is my name, and my glory I will not give to another.' And then she understood.

6024 SC

When Daniel Rothchild, David and Justine's fifth and final child was born, being named after David's older brother, Justine had just turned 43, and soon her main childbearing life cycle came to an end, and no more children would come forth. They lived, now, in Jerusalem in 2054 AD. David had, gradually, become more and more influential within the Jerusalem community. He was now on the Jerusalem council, having been elected the year before, and it was felt he was destined for Israel's main parliamentary Assembly. Four years later, at 47, this came to pass with David elected into the Knesset as a member of the Likud party. Yosef Netanyahu, the former prime-ministers grandson, worked closely with David to form a co-alition of power with two other parties, with Yosef being elected Prime-Minister. Yosef had very strong ties to the ancient 'Taheb', who had just turned 114, the iconographic religious leader from the Samaritan community who had become popular on a worldwide stage. David, likewise, knew the Taheb personally, and the essential ideal of 'Torah alone' as Israel's spiritual constitution had been born again, as it were, within the heart of the Israelite people. Today, at 2054 AD, or 6024 SC by the Taheb's Calendar, Israel as a nation was alive to God and Torah again, with the third temple having been completed after the terrorist destruction of the Islamic 'Dome of the Rock' in 2020 AD, or 6000 SC, by an unknown group, yet everyone suspecting a fundemantalist ultra-orthodox group called 'Shema' who had never publicly denied the accusation.

Mecca had been slowly and carefully considering their response. Jihad had been proposed – a universal Islamic Jihad to, finally, destroy Israel forever. Yet they were reluctant, even many speaking of the Third Temple as a place of God's holiness and that Israel, to gain the temple, must have repented as a people. In the end they had relented and declared the Third Temple an important icon for Jews and Judaism, a witness by Allah for Israel to repent of its sins and praise the most high. Many Imam's further declared that, with the building of the temple, Judgement Day was approaching, and that God was preparing all the people of the book for the final days.

In truth, Mecca, despite centuries of hostility, saw a truth in Israel. In the war which was coming, in the war which so many Imam's saw to be with the new emerging One World Government Beast Empire, which had begun uniting Australia, America and Europe in a free trade commonwealth (one in which 2060 was aimed for the free movement by the disolvement of national boundaries to allow people within these territories to live were-ever they pleased, essentially meaning one western nation, officially being declared the goal of the new commonwealth), Mecca and the Middle East feared that, finally, the end of days was coming and that the final beast for God's children to fight was about to arise.

David saw this too. He saw it clearly – more clearly than he had seen anything else in his entire life. He thought on Jesus and, perhaps, what that Jew had been used by God to accomplish. To conquer the hearts and minds of the Caucasians – the Europeans – so that on the final day they would relent and accept the authority of God's chosen people.

And, knowing how English had become the language of this people, the language he once spoke praisingly of, David feared them more than he had ever feared them. In Israel he had changed. In Israel, he felt, he had come to see the power of the west for what it truly was. In the words of the Imams', America was the Great Satan, corrupting all mankind. And the new western alliance, one in which Russia was soon to join, would inevitably rule the world. Of that David had complete certainty.

They had the power bases, the technology, and the land. 4 continents – North and South America, Australia and Europe, were in the sway of the Western Alliance and if Russia joined as well, which was predicted, they would have half of Asia as well. Only the Middle East and Africa, and the small community in Antarctica, was separate to the beast – the final beast of Daniel chapter 7 which David was convinced would one day step in to rule Israel. Yet David knew, knowing the outcome of that chapter, that the holy people would come through and gain rulership over all mankind. That the Kingdom of Israel would, ultimately, conquer all. Of that he had no doubts.

6030 – 6126 SC

(2060 – 2156 AD)

On January 1 2060 the Western Alliance officially allowed free movement of all citizens within its boundaries, consisting of Australia & New Zealand, North and South America, Europe and other various minor affiliates. This year was the culminating year of the first beast of Daniel – the Lion, whose wings had been plucked at the American Revolution, and made to stand like a man. The goal of the Seraphim Sariel, who watched over the emergence of Britain into the world power it had become, had by and large been met by 2060 when, with free movement throughout the Western Alliance had been established, and English, his language, had become the dominant official language of the Alliance, with Spanish spoken as the secondary language.

2060 was the peak year of the first beast's triumph.

David Rothchild watched on from his haven of Israel anxiously. Not only him, but Nathan James Hitler, in Germany, who had studied the emergence of the beasts of Daniel chapter 7, also looked on at the new world empire which had begun to unfold.

To Nathan, it now seemed so clear as to what would happen next. The final beast, the fourth beast, would unite all 3 prior beasts through conquering them. That would be the final one world government.

The Second Beast to emerge, which for so long he had thought was the Russian Bear, he now saw as becoming the next major world power. Already discussions had been taking place between the Western Alliance and Russia, and the Western Alliance had offered Russia the seat of Governance on the proviso of joining the new Alliance.

Officially, discussions began on the last day of January 2060. The advantages were obvious. Russia, for its benefit, would join a community which was similar to it in many ethnic ways, and aligned to one of the main powers of the Alliance, Europe, in close geographical proximity. When the EU had originally joined the Western Alliance, Russia had closed off its connections with the EU, fearing what may be coming. So with the new offer, they felt they had much to gain. The Western Alliance itself felt that, as Russia was the largest country geographically in the world, the sacrifice of seat of governance was a small price to pay for the new land access it would gain.

And so, officially ratified on the first of January 2070, which was the year 6040 SC officially in Israel, the calendar having been changed in honour of the Taheb's passing, Russia became the seat of governance, from Moscow, of the main world superpower, the Western Alliance.

David observed quickly a new reality. The Western Alliance, now, was Japheth's children, the son of Noah. The other three world powers were Asia, the Middle East and Africa, Shem and Ham's children, the other sons of Noah. Jewish tradition held that Africa and Asia were largely Hamitic nations, and that the middle east was mainly of Shem's line.

Nathan observed, as time passed, the gradual unifying of, first Africa, and second Asia, in response to the Western Alliance. After the Western Alliance had claimed Russia, it had rested. Sariel had decided that enough was enough. They were unified now, had enough territory, were rich, and would be no further blessed by having strong associations with either Africa or Asia, and of course the Middle East, as it had always been, was too much trouble to bother with.

Yet the Bear was restless and, seeking to show itself a power, went out on political conquest. The bear had consumed much flesh before. It had made a billion Chinese communists. And now, calling in its old ties, Russia sought diplomacy with Asia, calling itself an established Asian nation, and, as such, in 2090 the tentatively formed Asian Union joined the Western Alliance, having succumbed to pressures and the opportunities spoken of by Moscow. And then Russia – the Bear – again consumed much flesh, as the second beast was prophesied to do as such – and conquered the remainder of Asia politically, establishing the new Eastern/Western Alliance – the main world power.

By this time, David had begun noticing he was no longer aging, alongside his wife, and a number of other close friends and compatriots. In Germany Nathan James Hitler also noticed, which he had initially put down to advances in medicine, but since left such an idea, that he too was not aging. In England James Castleton noted such a reality as well, as did Callodyn Bradlock and his growing entourage in New Zealand.

Jane Talbourne, in Wales, was not the first to figure who the leopard – the third beast – would be. Perhaps it was obvious – the leopard was an African beast and long had been. But as the African Congress gradually accumulated the nations of Africa, apart from the northern most states which remained within the Arabian League of Muslim nations, at 2100 Africa was officially one free trade zone, with nations allowing free movement, as had been done with the Western Alliance.

Sariel, who was the main power behind the first beast, the founder of the Western Alliance, was no longer the power he had been, having given over technical authority to the Seraphim Radrukiel, as Russia was officially the head of the Eastern/Western Alliance. But Radrukiel knew, as God spoke to him as such, that Mtoko Jones, head of the African Congress of Nations, would become the next world power. And when the Eastern/Western Alliance officially offered Africa the seat of governance if they came into the Alliance, which they duly accepted on the 1st of April 2156, the world was practically one.

The Leopard emerged, with 4 heads of Authority – Africa, Eurasia, The Americas and Australia. All that remained, then, was the Arabian League of Muslim Nations of the Middle East and one tiny little despot amongst them – Israel.

Chapter Two

6130 SC

(2160 AD)

David, sitting with his older brother Daniel, finally conceded the point. For years now he had been studying the prophecies of scripture, and his older brother had finally made a conclusion regarding the identities of the beasts of Daniel chapter 2 and Daniel chapter 7. And his identifications were difficult for David to receive. Firstly, each chapter spoke of a 'Kingdom' being established – ones which would last forever without ceasing. Yet, for Daniel, these prophecies spoke of not 'ONE' kingdom, as had long been assumed by most, but 'TWO' separate kingdoms. While Daniel had long conceded that the prophecy of the four beasts of chapter 7 was a 'latter day' prophecy, he had now concluded that the prophecy of chapter 2, which clearly identified 'Babylon' as the head of Gold, naturally concluded with the establishment of the 'Kingdom which filled the whole earth as a mountain' being the Kingdom of Jesus of Nazareth. Daniel explained to David that Israel simply did not fit the best description for key points within the chapter. Firstly, the Kingdom of Daniel 2 HAD to be established in the times of those early kings. At 30AD when the church began formulating, such a timeframe had been met. The problem with trying to identify this as 'Israel' was that Israel, at 70 AD went into exile until 1948, and where not seated on the Kingdom, which meant the prophecy could only have failed if the identity of the Kingdom of Daniel chapter 2 was Israel. They argued for months, and David went over the chapter many times before, finally, acknowledging Daniel's point. From then on, though, Daniel maintained that Jesus was the King of a Kingdom, but that did not necessarily authorize everything written in the New Testament. He maintained that Israel had been kept separate from the Kingdom of Jesus for the latter day purpose of establishing their own Kingdom – this kingdom to be the Kingdom talked of in Daniel chapter 7. Daniel, while for a long time believing this chapter to speak of Jesus and the church as well, had finally acknowledged that Christendom had NOT kept the Law of the Old Testament or the Sacred seasons since 70AD, and thus as Daniel 7:25 clearly maintained, only the people of Israel who still kept the Torah on the whole could satisfactorily fulfill this prophecy. The ability for this prophecy to come to pass began in 1948 when Israel reclaimed the land of Israel. Yet, before the 'Kingdom' of which the Jewish Messiah would reign from could be established, the fourth beast would necessarily have to invade Israel to establish its own dominion – in truth the saints of Israel would be delivered over to the beast for a 'Time, Times & Half a Time' – or three and a half years.

They argued detail for a while and eventually agreed on the conclusion. Jesus Kingdom, represented by the church, would last forever. Daniel chapter 2 made that apparent. Yet the Kingdom of Israel would reign supreme, and the Kingdom of Jesus would naturally accept the authority of Israel when Israel came into its own glory, as chapter 7 maintained.

And when he had concluded on this idea, David felt he now understood what Christianity had been about all along, and why Israel had never quite converted to this religion as a whole.

6140 SC

(2170 AD)

For 10 years he had been now studying the 'Revelation' of the New Testament. 10 long years of study, and he had cringed at what he now perceived. The angels of God had spoken to him many times, and reminded him of what he was now starting to believe. He, David Rothchild, was the chosen one of Israel. He was older now, yet still looked relatively young, as did a couple of hundred of close personal friends of his. He would soon be 160, but certainly did not look it. People in Israel knew, of course, that the messianic era had arrived and that long life was being granted to many, a phenomenon throughout earth. And David was becoming one of the more popular of the perceived 'elect' of God. Yet he now cringed as, with the angels telling him likewise, he was the messiah of God, now knowing the fate of the Messiah in the book of Revelation. The book spoke of three key figures – the 'Lamb of God' who was the Lord of Lords and King of Kings, being the Messiah – and David knew this to be himself. And then their was his older spiritual brother who the angels spoke to him of, 'Archangel Michael', who would be caught up to heaven in his rapture, defeat Satan, and later return at the end of the tribulation for the day of Armageddon as the 'King of Kings and Lord of Lords'. He and Archangel Michael were these two key figures. And, finally, Jesus. Jesus, so David understood, would likely not appear until the end of the millennium upon Judgement Day on the Great white throne. And then he would judge the living and the dead.

Yet for David, who knew his angelic name to be 'Ambriel' of the Seraphim of eternity, the fate of the Lamb of God was to be killed by the forces of darkness, and then to receive the glory before the throne of God.

So many in the church viewed this as Jesus, yet it was clearly to happen during the tribulation, and therefore David knew it to be himself. In truth it did not seem a palatable fate. Yet if such was the will of God, then so should such things be.

7000 SC

Judgement Day

Daniel Rothchild sat down with David. They were reading through the books of Enoch.

'Today is the day. The day of judgement. The Day God Almighty sits on his throne of glory and judges all mankind, and those who are saved shall be saved, and those who are lost shall be lost. And such is life,' said Daniel.

David Smiled.

And just then an old man walked in through the door, and smiled at Daniel. 'You really are a schmuck, aren't you,' said the old divine father, and disappeared out of the library door of Lake Tuggeranong, off to where he came from.

'Who the heck was that?' asked Daniel.

'God only knows,' said David.

So this is the year 7000 in the Jewish calendar. But what about the HNF calendar? What year is it now?' asked David.

'Oh, the actual year? Right. Just thinking. Right. It's 7404 SC in the official calendar.'

'And how old are you?'

'Very funny. You know I don't reveal the truth on that. But, seeing as its judgement day, I was born in the year 5732 or 5733 in the Jewish calendar, which was 1972 in the correct christian calendar. Destiny and reality have interfered in this life we live, brother, for we are living a canon of historical truth, yet our lives were carved out beforehand by the machinations of the authors of destiny, and there are discrepancies in time, which are being resolved now.'

'Which means what?' asked David.

'That the truth is an elusive beast, and that old man was a god of sarcasm in my opinion, rocking up right on judgement day. Saw him before, though. 4 centuries ago. I remember now. He dropped around. Had a chat about the book of Enoch. Said he would catch up with me on the Jewish date as well. Resolve things for Enoch's sake. I was not sure what to expect.'

'Who was he?' David asked Daniel.

'A complicated person. Who likes to have mercy if someone will intercede.'

'Right,' said David, and looked out the library door, towards were the old man had disappeared to.

'Its all about Canan and Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha, both Jewish and Noahide,' said Daniel.

'So you are my adopted brother. But you are not as old as I thought. Alexander must have known you for years.'

'Mmm,' said Daniel. 'I shouldn't really confuse your mind. But it all works out in the end, brother of mine. It all works out in the end.

'Sure,' said David. 'I'll bet.'

'So I wasn't born in 1980? I always puzzled. I saw the common era calendar. It actually is the Christian date as well.'

'Which means you were born in 5980 SC in the Jewish calen'dar, or 2230 CE-AD.'

'Yes, that is the correct date,' said David.

'Its the mystery of mercy and Pseudepigrapha, which is not infallible historry, but a vision of what might be, a mishmash of the divine portents of possibilities, fulfilled in happy ways which suit God Almighty's personal desires.'

'I'm sure you are right,' said David, and returned his attention to the book of Enoch's.'

'So what is Pseudepigrapha?' Gemma Watkins asked David.

'The melting pot of Divine possibility,' responded the descendant of Zerubbabel, David Rothchild, a man of destined glories.

'So, tell me about your life,' Gemma asked Daniel Rothchild Daly

'Well, I was born in 1972 in Kingston upon Hull in England. Mum was Mary Daly and dad was Cyril Daly. I have an older brother called Matthew and an older sister called Brigid, and a younger brother called Gregory and a younger sister called Jacinta. But I was raised in Australia, living in Berridale first, and then Cooma and then Canberra. We came to Canberra in late 1989 I recall from memory, or possibly early 1990. I studied at Lake Tuggeranong college, and then gained an Associate Diploma of Business in Office Administration from the Canberra Institute of Technology. At CIT I met Ariel Cheng, Lee Chiu, Nary Ly and some other girls who were good friends. I also met Tammy Saunders, who brought me along to Potters House Christian Church. I had been raised a Roman Catholic, but left the church at 16. I struggled on faith for a while, trying to understand wether there was a God or not, but came back to faith through the arguement from design. Back in Cooma there were some good years towards the end, even though I was a bit of a bandit. Damien Asanovsci and Peter Dradrach were great friend, and we had a cool gang who played games at the arcade parlour, and played indoor cricket together. In 1995 when I joined Potters House I had just begun my schizophrenic phase. It was a wild year, and then I joined the United Pentecostal Church and met Paul Saberton. But in 1999 I became a Noahide and became a Karaite Noahide quite quickly, upon reviewing the faith. And then I pushed Karaite Noahide slowly for years, mainly interesting Aaron Goodsell. In 2012 there was a lot of fuss about the End of the World based on the Egyptian and Mayan calendars ending, but nothing happened. Yet I came to understand the end of the eras, the restoration of Israel as the redemption after the fulfilment of Psalm 89, and the acceptability of long life, as one of the elect as Isaiah taught, with the redemption of the Kingdom. I had prayed for the tree of life, and God granted me to this. I began, in 2000, writing the book 'Morning Stars', and that has been a divine influence on my life and truths ever since. And they are my angel books, the Chronicles of the Children of Destiny. Later on I met the Rotchilds and became friendly with them. And David was born, and I was sort of his brother, because I lived with Alexander and Rose, as a sort of adopted son, but never really. It was just something we let David believe. Didn't see a need to change from that idea.'

'What idea?' Gemma asked him.

'Destiny,' said Daniel. 'But don't you mix a cup for destiny, mind you, which is really about boasting of tomorrow and what one will achieve, as I understand it. Destiny,for me, is linked to prophecy, and not any strange idolatries.'

'Want to tell me some tales about your youth?' Gemma asked him.

'Perhaps some time,' said Daniel, whose eyes misted over.'

Morgan Bradlock sat down next to his brother Damien. 'Well, brother. Your dastardly plots proceedeth.'

'Shut up Morgan,' said the Devil.

Morgan, the Seraphim angel Sariel from the realm of eternity took the rebuke on the chin. What else could you do with a brother like Damien.

'You know, Damien. Father John has always tried to remind you that, despite the family's zeal towards success and wealth, we are not the most evil people in the world. We do claim to have a conscience.'

'Concsciences are for losers,' said Damien, and puffed on his cigar, ignoring Morgan's oft claimed tirade against him of so called moral values.

'As an Anglican you really should know better, brother.'

'Screw the church,' said Damien. 'I have my own agenda.'

'Your heart is far from God,' said Morgan. 'I shall continue to pray for you.'

'You do that,' said Damien, not looking up from his laptop.

Morgan looked at Damien, typing away, pursuing his agenda, his devilish agenda, and sighed. What could you do. The man had no scruples. No morals, either, apart from a surge of decency in his innocent youth.

Later that week Morgan was talking with his father John Bradlock.

'Are we no longer really Christian, father?'

'For fuck's sake, son. We were only ever lukewarm at best.'

'Yet we are granted like those other ones with such an incredibly long life. Can it not be but the divine who grants this to us?'

'Sure. Probably,' said John. 'I lost my respect for God years ago.'

'But I haven't,' said Morgan. 'He is our heavenly father. Our God. The family's God. Our reputation is a beast, these days, the Bradlocks. In bed with the Darvanius's, the power of the Illuminati, which doesn't even serve God like it did in the ancient days. I fear we serve evil, now, as they all claim. The devil himself is a Bradlock, I fear.'

'Amen,' said John sarcastically, and dismissed his son.

Morgan returned to Cottingham, away from the office in Hull were John worked, and sat with his wife. Gerladine. She was quite famous, a pop singer in a British Band of world renown, and Morgan's delight every day.

'Geri. I must do it. I must renounce my family name. I can no longer choose this, this Bradlock clan, to ascribe my life to. They are corrupt, and a practicing Catholic like yourself can only mock their supposed Anglican faith, I fear.'

'A new identity?' asked Geraldine.

'Yes. I have chosen a name. The Grant family, after Amy Grant, the singer. She inspires me often. I don't really want to be called Morgan anymore as well. Do you have a suggestion for a new name?'

'Mmm,' thought Geri. 'How about Hugh?'

'Hugh Grant?' said Morgan Bradlock. 'Why yes. I like the sound of that. Sounds like a writer. Or an actors name, or something like that.'

'Then Hugh Grant it is,' said Geri Halliwell, and returned to her magazine.

The old father sat with Morgan. 'It is your judgement I am here to speak to you of.'

'Oh,' said Sariel the Seraphim.

'You are a chosen vessel to suffer my indignation at the Empire of Glory,' said the old father.

'Oh,' said Sariel the Seraphim.

'So you will confess, in time, the sins of your Empire, and I will forgive you then.

'Oh,' said Morgan Bradlock, and started crying in his heart about old glories of vanity, perpetuating a program which was not necessarily that holy in the first place.

He cheered up later that day, put on an old Spice Girls video, and sat there, reminiscing, thinking about his Britishness, his way of life, and how they had affected others in their pride. And he knew he would atone, and worship God in his heart, and love the Lord with all his strength, and study the damned Torah, as the man had requested, until he could study it no longer.

And he would be forgiven.

Madalene sat with Lucy. 'How's Jenny?'

'She's good,' said Lucy. 'She's really enjoying her work with Shelandragh down in Nimmitabel. The store they have.'

'The gift shop,' said Madalene.'

'Indeed. They have a one century plan for the store up and running. And the town is booming these days.'

'And her witchcraft? She has still put that on hold for now?'

'Convictions. David spoke with her recently. Said he was impressed with her softness towards God, and her respect for him. Gave her some advice how to handle those witches she got caught up with. The Black witches. Mandy always said she was in over her head. Playing with fire. Too much for young Jenny Smith.'

'She pulled through, though,' said Madalene. 'You have to give her credit for that. The temptations of darkness did not conquer her either. Just like her mother.'

'Damien Bradlock is a devious fellow,' said Lucy. 'And his cronies have no limit in their insidious methodologies. But a day of judgement is coming, Madalene Bridges, and he will be repaid back for the evil he has done. As well as that bloody Lucifer Darvanius.'

'I thought you liked him, now. You say that these days. Say he's cute and stuff.'

'Shut up,' said Lucy, glaring at her. 'I do not say that.'

'Oh, I listen,' said Madalene. 'You like him. His gruff ways. His devilish personality. His, how can I say it, good looks and exceeding charm when he wants to turn it on.'

'The bastard raped me,' said Lucy.

'Which you forgave him for. Besides, it never turned out for evil. He even said sorry, didn't he? You told me that, once. A few years back. He took you up to Perisher, and you had a weekend together, and he said that one day, in the dim and distant future, he would be over it. Not a bad boy for all eternity.'

Lucy looked at her, and her heart softened.

She got up, walked into the other room, leaving Madalene to drink her tea, and in the back room of her Mittagong Road house, next to the pool, in Central Cooma, she pulled out the love letter from Lucifer that he had mailed her, and read it again. It was gruff, and his bestial ways were unmistakeable, but he did say he loved her, and that he was sorry.

And she had a tear, for the devil himself, and sat there, looking out the window, thinking about love, life and the power of mercy. Even for one as abhorrent as Lucifer Darvanius. Even for one like him.

Callodyn Bradlock - the Angel Samael of the Realm of Infinity - sat in his comic store in New Zealand, out the back, thinking. Thinking about life, love and other mysteries. And the mystery of vengeance was upon his heart.

Callodyn had not taken a great deal of interest in Brax's current offers to attempt to inculcate him into the world of the Bradlock and Darvanius' empire of glory. Empire of destruction, as Callodyn knew it to be. Jun e Middlesworth kept him saved, somewhat, reminding him exactly what she thought of the ministrations of Alexander Darvanius II, and his wife Rachel, in her newfound Samaritan Torah faith was not that keen on him either. Rachel was away at the moment, in Israel, with the Taheb. She and Cindy, her best friend from the Sydney Samaritan's hostel, were always in Israel, it seemed, listening to the wisdom of the Taheb, the messianic redeemer in many people's eyes, keeping their faith in God and his torah, but worried as well. Worried about the world. About the world and were it was heading.

Rachel, somewhat, denied prophecy. As a samaritan she accepted that the Chumash was the divine word of God, and that Samaritanism was the true faith of Israel, gradually working its way into the heart of mankind. Gradually teaching others the love of God they claimed to possess. Callodyn admired her for her faith, and while they had started out together as Anglican in marriage, that was the past. He himself had only faith in God, and Torah and religion was not that big a deal, but he did not kid himself either. He knew the bible intimately, to be aware of God's plans for the future, and he knew instinctively that all the religious writings of prophetical nature in the canons of scripture, apocrypha and pseudepigrapha, would be coming to play in the machinations and plans of his Almighty father. And he also knew that Logos would soon be responded too, by God, and that the man from Nazareth would have his day of judgement.

And that he knew to be the absolute truth.

The man from Nazareth would have his day of judgement.

Daniel and David were out on the streets of Canberra, working on Haven Outreach. The Rothchild brothers were committed hearts towards people. Commited in showing them God's love. Commited in showing them God's grace. Commited in showing them God's mercy.

Really, Canberra was an incredibly wealthy city, these days, with abundancy of resources and food and all sorts of good things. But people, still, inevitably, fell through the cracks of society. And it was no longer, really, just those who could just get by in life because Centrelink was very generous these days, and Government housing and support was first class in Canberra especially. But there were those cases, those who had rejected life in some ways, dark souls, lost souls, who sat under bridges at night, heads full of demon's, voices telling them they were damned and all sorts of torments, that Daniel and David reached out to and taught them there was hope - there was love - there was a God.

They had done this work for a long time now, and David loved the lost, but loved his brother tremendously, for he did not have David's heart in many ways, of love for those who were in the shadows, but he did have solid commitment. Daniel cared. He did not have deep emotions for the lost, and could be sarcastic about life and just as right wing saying 'they should get a bloody job,' but David saw the mercy there also. He came out with David, and they talked to people about God and his love, and they fed them sometimes when it was needed, and Daniel spoke with calm words of experience on witnessing, and spoke with wisdom and true concern for their souls. And Daniel had a vision that these souls would work it out in time, and they just needed to be reminded that the good guys still won in the end.

And that was love to David, and the mercy of God, and showed a soul which had proper concern for all of God's creatures.

Morgan was reading Torah, as it was called. Late yesterday the certificate had arrived in the mail, and now he was technically known as Hugh Grant. It had been a big decision, to actually go through with it and disown his family, but he felt the better for it. A new lease of life was upon him, for it was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and he was no longer the person he was. Born anew, in a way. And then he had found a copy of the Samaritan Torah in English, which had been given him once at a stay in the Samaritan's hostel, up in the attic when rooting around, and he had brought it down, opened it up.

The commentary at the beginning of the book talked of Genesis 1 - 11:9, which was called by the Taheb 'The Rainbow Tor ah', and was apparently the doctrinal responsibilities of all mankind, not just the seed of Abraham. And, because of that, and his new lease of life on spirituality, he had read the text 3 times now, and was starting to become familiar with it. The central doctrinal name for this belief was Noahidism. It was also taught in Orthodox Judaism, which preached the 7 laws of Noah from the Talmud, yet the Taheb maintained the scriptures alone were the more accurate and truthful understanding of the original Noahide faith. And so, because of that, and the interest he now had in spirituality, he decided within himself that he may as well follow the original traditional approach, if this thing was going to be his religion, and become a Samaritan Noahide, as they were called. Yet, since his coming into the faith he had read about a certain Haven Noahide Fellowship which was supposedly a Karaite Noahide assembly, which was based on the entire Old Testament, as he knew it, and that seemed like something to consider also. There was a brief discussion in his Samaritan Bible about their perspective on the rest of the Bible, and they seemed to indicate that it was not divinely sanctioned, a compelling idea to Morgan. The truth of the issue, though, could be a long and complex thing to get to and, while he was so far comfortable with looking into the Samaritan Noahide community as a potential thing to now place his faith in, perhaps the Karaite Noahide community had something to offer him also.

He sat there, finished off the Rainbow Torah again, and went off to get something to eat.

Geri was in the kitchen.

'I've read it again,' he said.

'The bible?' she asked.

'Yes. I have found my new faith. Noahide faith.'

'You said that,' she said. 'What's the big deal about Noah? He didn't die on a cross.'

'No. But he built an ark. And that rebirthed humanity.'

'True,' she responded. 'An interesting enough point I suppose.'

'Why do you want to leave Christianity?' she asked him.

'I don't. I mean, no, I'm a Christian. An Anglican.'

'Then what gives?' she asked him.

'I can be both,' he said defensively. 'I'm still descended from Noah as well. Its the family faith.'

'But you rejected your family,' she commented.

'Only the immediate generations. Going back grandfather and the rest of the clan are still my family. And I haven't rejected my family completely. They are my blood. I just need a new start, a new name, to get away from some of the negativities John and Damien are involved with.'

'Right,' she said. 'So that means a new religion as well, does it?'

'I guess it does,' he said, and left it at that. 'Have you prepared anything?'

'Pizza in the fridge. Its a little cold now, but you have been busy.'

He went to the fridge, took out the pizza and some orange juice, and returned to his study. He looked at the Torah, and thinking over the Karaite issue, went to his computer, tapped onto the internet, and returned to the Website he had found. And going to another link to a myspace page, he found, of all things, the Rainbow Torah also, presented within Karaite faith.

'How ironic,' he thought to himself. 'Perhaps they are linked in some way.'

'There was this time,' said Daniel, talking with Gemma, 'when I was young and innocent. Still a Pentecostal Christian. I had loved Bon Jovi as a kid, and Slippery When Wet had been a favourite album of mine. I even saw them live in Sydney in 1989. Anyway, I was still a Christian, and had left the UPC and was attending the Baptist Church, but with interest in starting a new church with Paul Saberton. Yet, in January 1999 I had revelation from God that Jesus wasn't God. I was still a virgin then. But the night after leaving Christian faith, I assumed it was the Torah faith, and I checked Leviticus 18 or 20, perhaps both, and seeing no law against fornication, I decided to visit a lady of the night.'

'A lady of the night?' queried Gemma.

'A prostitute,' said Daniel. 'Anyway I was living in Hughes at the time, and that night I walked down to Woden, withdrew funds, and taxied it to Fyshwick. Funnily, the radio was on, almost definitely 104.7, and 'You give love a bad name' by Bon Jovi came on as we neared Fyshwick. It was pretty intense.'

'What happened?' asked Gemma.

'Well, I found a place. Exotic studios. Went in, was offered some choices, chose a girl called Amber, who was from Cooma ironically, and lost my innocence.'

'You naughty boy,' said Gemma.

'Yes,' he said smiling. 'A bad name indeed.'

'Not the bloody book of Daniel,' said Geri. 'The Watchtower never stopped hassling me on that monstrosity.'

'What is wrong with the Book of Daniel?' Hugh asked his wife.

'It is insane. 4 beasts my butt.'

'Haven has an intersting doctrine on it, Says it is currently being fulfilled.'

'Every wacky eschatologist says that,' she cynically replied.

'Eschatologist?' he queried.

'Doomsayers,' she responded.

'Mmm. Fair enough. Still I find it fascinating.'

'So do all the wackos. And they hide from the world because of it.'

'What do you mean?' he asked.

'The cults. Communes were they are the saved ones, and the Devil rules Babylon.'

'Yes, Daniel was in Babylon,' he said, looking at the bible.

'Exactly,' she finished.

'There was this other time,' began Daniel, to an attentive Gemma. 'I was living in Cooma in 2007 or 2009 - I rented a flat twice in differing years, funnily one right next door to the other one in 2009, and I had a mild psychotic attack one night, went off wandering all the way up Cooma North, up Mittagong Road, half way to the Murrumbidgee. I had done this a bit in my wanderings when I had been psychotic. But I got to a place on the Road, ready to go on forever, and be a hermit in the countryside practically, to escape Babylon I suppose, and, even despite this being a common part of my psychosis, I seemed to reach a rationale decision for once. I seemed to come to myself for once, and realize I had a good life, was supported, had a place to live, and was being paranoid. And retracing those steps, getting some water at the Lutheran/Presbyterian church near the watertank, and then getting home, and eating something possibly, I felt so much better. And, in a way, I conquered a lot of my madness then. I put to death a bit more of my stupid Daniel against the World mentalities and grew up, perhaps. It was like a drug, that book of Revelation. Like an intoxicating wine, the drunk whore in some ways, to me, being the book itself, and when that madness started finally diminishing, and as I grew firmer in Karaite Noahide faith, my schizophrenia and its conditions started easing. I had been pumped up in my few years in Pentecost, but Noahide faith brought me back to sanity gradually. It grounded me on the truth, and the only puzzles then were Karaite eschatology of the Tanakh. Yet that was able to be approached more rationally and logically. I was calmer about it, and didn't seem as erratic, to myself anyway, as I once was. Pentecost was like that in those days - pumped up. They were mad on the book of revelation, and it wasn't right. It wasn't good for the church as a whole, and it was not kindhearted towards the Catholics or the other older churches. And it just wasn't right. I was young, I suppose. New to faith in God and impressionable, with a thirst for understanding the future and last things. I grounded in time, and while the book,now, is still a source of fascination, I mainly view it as something of a fantasy book for adults. Like Christianity. Not really the truth, in the end. Not really the truth.'

'And that is what David says as well,' replied Gemma. 'That Judaism is the true religion. Its what I hold to, you know. The Jewish faith, now. I'm not a convert, and I know what you are saying about Noahide faith, and I suppose, technically, that is what I am. But I uphold the morals of the Jewish people.'

'Sensible,' said Daniel. 'Sabbath?'

'Not strictly. But sometimes.'

'Kosher?'

'Uh, no. Mostly, but I do eat bacon a lot.'

'Right,' he said nodding. 'Well that is very close to Noahidism, if you must know.'

'Really,' she said.

'We try to get it right as well, Gemma. We are about serving God just as much as Jewish people. We have an older covenantal basis, and it is not the same exactly. But the morals are very similar in many ways.'

'Mm. Ok,' she said, and looked at him curiously, but left it at that.

'Cally? Why are you studying these military magazines?' asked a concerned Rachel Bradlock. 'What. Are you going to join the army or something?'

'Never mind about that,' said Callodyn Bradlock.

'If you say so,'she replied, and let the issue drop.

'He was here again. Brax. Wants me connected. Practically insists upon it now.'

'There empire is growing. What do you expect,' she responded.

'I expect him to get the point. I am not interested in serving the ego of Damien Bradlock.'

'You like Alexander, though.'

'Yes. He is quite intense. A different kind of truth, though.'

'What do you mean by that?' she asked him.

'His spirit. A Different reality to what I am accustomed to.'

'Different to heaven?' she asked.

'A different kind of heaven. I think, now, I understand what place he comes from. It is a place we knew not. Yet I suspect Logos may have.'

'Jesus, you mean,' she responded.

He looked at her. 'And that might explain it. Like Matthew, Mark and Luke.'

'And then Logos,' she said. 'The Word.'

He looked at her and a cog ticked in his mind, and Samael started pondering just what eternity might have all been about.

'But you, 'my child, shall be judged most strictly of all. For your sin is great, and Daniel and Valandriel are soft of heart, and Sariel has shown himself a man.

Alexander Darvanius nodded to the old man.

The crosses people bore, he thought to himself. The crosses people bore.

'Judgement Day is upon us, and Judgement Day is yet to be,' said Daniel to David.

'Perhaps,' said David. 'I see your point. Theologically. Israel is ready, as ever. The beast shall die.'

'I am sure Alexander will appreciate that,' said Daniel sarcastically.

'Do you have a better solution?' David asked him.

'Mmm,' said his brother. 'I am well aware of the prophecies of scripture,and I know other things in scripture as well, and falling aways and restorations, and promises and caveats and many interesting things. And the reality of destiny and the reality of freedom of choice.'

'I know what you are saying,' said David, looking down at his Torah scroll.

'So the Judgement Day to be will be a time in which, so I feel, resolutions are made. Fundamental resolutions. Perhaps once and for all.'

'Perhaps once and for all indeed,' finished David, son of the Rothchild clan.

And the world turned. And the world turned. And a generation came, and a generation went. And the Day of Judgement loomed ever closer, and the time of reckoning beckoned, and the resolutin spoken of was impending upon all the children of God, upon all the sons of men.

7400 SC

(3430 AD)

For over 1,000 years they had watched. The elect had come together to Israel, getting to know each other, and they had watched. Beyond the Middle East, the world alliance was strong – so strong. The Middle East had not joined, and had been separate for now approaching a millennium. And, because of this, there had been rumblings. Rumblings from New York, were the United Nations was stationed, over which Alexander Darvanius II ran affairs, having become the most respected Secretary General of the United nations, and largely regarded as one of the elect of God by most people, due to his great age in actual years, yet apparent lack in physical ageing.

And also in New York, head of Alpha Gamma Delta Industries, the world's largest business corporation, Damien Bradlock watched over his young protégé Alexander Darvanius II, instructing him constantly on the needs of the Illuminati and the business world to maintain the status quo.

And, in Iraq, Lucifer Darvanius, Alexander's step-brother, had slowly and carefully been building his spiritual new age empire, besotted with idolatry. For, over the millennium, Islam had crumbled through the onslaught of Damien Bradlock's spiritual attacks, and Babylon the Great was approaching, and his goal of corrupting the world with religious hedonism. What had infiltrated the prophet of God was idolatry and lust, through the influence of Lucifer Darvanius, turning the prophet away from God and into the long aimed goal of Damien Bradlock – the creation of the False Prophet. For Damien Bradlock, head of the Illuminati and business empires of the world, and the one who orchestrated his political servant, Alexander Darvanius II and his religious servant, Lucifer Darvanius, was none other than that most ancient of adversaries from the Realm of Infinity, the fallen Satan of the Saruvim.

And the rumblings in New York were of one agenda, one which David Rothchild had long feared – the final conquering of the Middle East and the last of the remnants of God, that tiny despot of a nation, Israel.

Alexander saw his step-brother Lucifer's work as the main way in which the Arabian nations would soon accept the new World Alliance. Alexander would step in and claim the World Alliance, with its great stability, could replace the fear which had come upon the Arabian League of nations with the growing Babylonian New Age religion. The World Alliance could offer support, so they continually maintained to their Arab friends. And, finally, accepting their offer on the proviso of the glory – the United Nations being moved to the newly built 'Babylon' near Baghdad – on the first of January 3450 AD, the United Nations took up residence in Babylon, and only one final nation yet resisted the world alliance – despot Israel.

Yet for Alexander Darvanius II, the time of his glory was quickly approaching – one day, and one day soon, he would rule the entire world.

7400 SC

(3430 AD)

It was the morning of the 25th of December, 3430 AD, Christmas Day, in which the Angels of God spoke to David Rothchild and announced to them the identity of his last son, Daniel Rothchild – none other than Archangel Michael of the Realm of Eternity. It was a shock to David, certainly, yet from what he was told, Daniel knew who he was and had done so for centuries. He could only wonder the reasons for his son not sharing his identity with himself.

David contemplated the future according to the Revelation. He felt that soon – very soon – now that the Islamic League of Nations had now joined the World Alliance, that the end was at hand. He had noted from reports given to him often, and through his own observations on the internet, that the last age of the Church – the Laodicean Age – was underway. Wealth, riches – every desire that the heart could possibly lust after – had been made available to the citizens of the world by the machinations of Damien Bradlock's business Empires and the work of Alexander and Lucifer Darvanius.

What David had not known is that Alexander Darvanius II, in his heart, had offered the world glory for accepting him as its leader. He had talked of wealth beyond measure for all, and an end to poverty and suffering. And this Messiah which the world practically worshipped had provided all that he claimed he would provide. Yet, for David, and many, many people in the world alliance, something was missing. As Jesus had spoken to the last Angel – the Angel of Laodicea – you have grown rich and wealthy, yet you are poor, blind and naked. In truth, through their lust for wealth and power, so many in the church had gone astray from their first love, and forgotten what it was to have charity and affection for other people. It seemed the cold hard dollar ruled the hearts of many, to which David had paid close attention in his studies of the Laodicean era.

The Angel of the Laodicean age itself, the seventh angel of Logos elect Seraphim angels, was Saruviel. This was Saruviel of the Seraphim of the Realm of Infinity. His namesake in the Realm of Eternity was the dread dark lord Alexander Darvanius II, also known as Saruviel. Saruviel of Infinity, bearing the name of Jason Bradlock, son of Callodyn Bradlock and Rachel Bradlock, had become the head of the Elect Church of the Living God, living in the United Kingdom in the town of Crossden in Northern Wales, were the head church was now stationed. Jason Bradlock was Callodyn and Rachel Bradlock's third child, after Leopold and Rebecca. The Bradlock's had lived in New Zealand for many years after leaving Wales, after which they had journeyed to Israel when the elect were gathered in Jerusalem. And now the elect remained in Israel, bar Jason Bradlock whom Christ had commanded to remain in the realm of the World Alliance in Crossden, watching over the remnant of faithful Christians.

The Elect themselves were the Angels of God – the Angels chosen by God from the Realms of Infinity and Eternity. Alongside them were a number of the 70 children of Heaven with particular special roles in the end of days. Yet not every Angel of God had been made manifest at this time. A number had already lived on earth, while a number were yet to be born. Yet a key number lived in these dangerous end times – times of testing for the elect children of God.

David's son Daniel had always been the most gentle of children and proved the same as a man. He was not a strong character. In fact, in many ways, seemed quite flawed, as if he was weak in courage. Yet he loved truly and, despite his initial financial failures in life, having been mostly watched over by his parents, Daniel had slowly been having success in business. He had not yet married, for no woman was taken to him. He was a little overweight, but reasonably attractive. Yet he had the unfortunate habit of often saying the wrong thing and losing friends he had worked hard to attain because of it. David worried about Daniel often, and prayed hard for his son. Yet, as the centuries had passed, Daniel had made baby steps – one by one – and, today was becoming a man. He had strength of character, now. He'd had his trials from youth, and learned to overcome them. The depression he'd suffered for 700 years was now essentially dead, and he had slowly been becoming alive to God. David wondered, often, why this son of his was as he was. And, with the revelation that he was Archangel Michael, all David could ask was 'How?' Yet God's choices are not man's choices, nor ever have been. For the eternal father of Glory sees the heart in man, and what others would call weak, God would call strong.

Yet, the fate of Daniel Rothchild, now that David had become aware of who he was, seemed almost impossible. For Daniel would be the one to cast Satan out of heaven. His son, Daniel, weak of character, yet Angelic in identity, would cast the old devil from the heavenlies, if such a thing could possibly be.

As for that casting out, it was not far off. For Damien Bradlock, having suffered horrible injuries in an automobile accident in 3437 AD, died and was taken to the heavenly realm of eternity. And, his full memories finally being restored, Damien Bradlock – Satan himself – began his final and most viscious work of corrupting the children of God. For the days of wrath were at hand.

'Basically, the main problem in trying to identify the church as the eternal Kingdom of Daniel chapter 7 is that the church failed to keep the laws of God and the sacred seasons from not long after 70 AD and, in truth, Jesus did not promote these laws to the degree many law-keeping fundamentalists suggest that he did. For so long the church had identified Babylon, Media-Persia, Greece and Rome as the four beast of chapter 7, as chapter 2 made this apparent. Yet, ultimately, the prophecy failed on the lack of Torah observance. And with the separation of Israel from the Church for so long, and with Israel's fidelity, despite its persecution, to the Torah of God, it has become apparent to me, dear younger brother, that Israel is the Kingdom of Daniel chapter 7.'

David nodded. It was a conversation they'd had a number of times, yet Daniel's clarification of David's own views, seemed stronger and more certain now. It seemed, in truth, each Kingdom spoke of separate kingdoms – the Church and Israel – something which had been a reality for, now, over 3,000 years.

'Yet, it would seem, continued Daniel, that my nephew, whom we know is Archangel Michael, will one day defeat Satan and come forth from heaven as King of Kings and Lord of Lords, and defeat the beast. And then, in his kingdom, will rule all nations with a rod of Iron – the rod of Torah law. For you are mercy, younger brother, the Lamb of God. Yet he is judgement, the wrath of God. God's mercy, the Lord of Lord's and King of Kings & God's judgement, the King of Kings and Lord of Lord's.'

'Poetically put, dear Daniel.'

'I thought so.'

Chapter Three

7480 SC

(3510 AD)

Over 70 years of work was starting to pay dividends for Satan – big dividends indeed. God had granted him access to both the Realms of Infinity and Eternity, as well as the Realm of Heaven, were a small number of the children of heaven watched him nervously when he came around, usually asking him to depart. He looked at Adam and Eve often when he was their, noting their grins. They knew things he did not know. They knew of fates and destinies and things of life he yet did not understand. And he remembered the garden, and his own temptations towards them, and how they had succumbed. Yet, now, he did not think they would be so easily fooled again. He was not so naïve as to imagine that.

Yet many did follow – many did listen – and he knew, with work, he would achieve success. Yet one thing did bother him – one thing some occasionally hinted at. To do with the bothersome Christian prophecies. Satan had never bothered with prophecy, hating and despising the words of God. Yet Alexander had spoken to him occasionally on the subject of biblical prophecy, and condemned the book as a work of Christian heresy, not representing the original Christian faith. And that was as much as Satan had ever known of the revelation and the fates presented therein. Yet, occasionally, those who he was attempting to lead astray, would make subtle comments regarding himself and the book, yet say nothing more. Like himself, though, those who had been managing to lead astray had little interest in such a prophecy – they knew Jesus from the early days he had spoken to them in the realm of eternity. Yet Jesus never spoke of Revelation to anyone, apart from his closest of followers. And because of that, Satan had concerns. Yet, whatever the book spoke of, it would not affect. Indeed he would thwart it, if necessary, and achieve all his evil desire.

7490 - 7493 SC

(3520-3523 AD)

In the year 3520 AD the world Alliance was nearly ready to move in on Israel. Alexander Darvanius II, working with his step-brother Lucifer Darvanius, knew the final victory was at hand. Nothing would now stop him.

In Israel, David Rothchild's son, Daniel Rothchild, had become Prime Minister of Israel. Under his father's guidance, Daniel spoke of the revelation's he had been given by God and the purpose of the Christian faith in the soon approaching end of days. Israel, now so used to Christian faith and Christians, had accepted their Prime Ministers understanding of faith. Not everyone agreed on everything, but the doctrine of the end of days espoused by the Rothchild's had started to become accepted by most Synagogues. One thing all were aware of – the end was now here. Outside of Israel, in the Christian world of the World Alliance, faith had shrunk. The secular authorities of the world now ruled and Alexander Darvanius II, who had once followed in his father's footsteps of forming the world ecumenical council of Christianity, had become the very thing he perhaps despised. He had become a force of power – a force of brutal dark power, determined to rule in authority, yet lacking in love and mercy. He ruled with power and wealth – yet it was only power and wealth and, as such, the heart was absent. Yet Alexander did not care. He did not care. If this was his fate, something which he had almost accepted as the revelation taught, then so be it. He knew he would curse God soon, and be done away with. Yet, in truth, perhaps that is what he should do. Could his heart, ever, possibly imagine anything else.

And then it had come to pass. Israel had accepted the Authority of Daniel Rothchild - Michael the Archangel of the Realm of Eternity - in his position as an ambassador of Jesus the Christ. The woman, Israel, through the unification of the 12 tribes of Israel, and through the work of the 12 Stars of Glory – the 12 firstborn Seraphim angels of the Realm of Eternity who had been made manifest in the end of days – the woman had brought forth to the nations the future Princes of the world – the Sons of God with the Rod of Iron – 480,048 of the male angels of the Realm of Eternity – approximately two thirds of the entire host of the male angels of that Realm.

And then – a rapture. The Angelic host had been taken up to heaven, to the throne of God, to learn from the most high himself. And, to come – the war with the old Dragon, Satan the Adversary, in the battlefields of the Heaven and the other Realms.

The highest of the thrones of God dwelt in Azaphon, home of the Children of Heaven. Azaphon was known as the Realm of Heaven – or simply Heaven. In it dwelt, usually, the 70 children of Heaven, although often the children were at their duties in the other 6 heavens – these heavens so much larger and greater than the first heaven. Recently, the Children of Heaven had been visited for the very first time by Jesus Christ – Logos of the below Realm of Infinity. For the children, being the ones who had composed the contents of the book of Revelation and sent through the Angel Davriel to reveal its contents to the Apostle John. Jesus had now finally worked out, so he felt, were Heaven was perhaps supposed to be. For so long the Revelation had confused him, he himself questioning wether it was of God or not. And then, knowing that the Eternal Realm dwelt below his home of Infinity, he had questioned just what lay above.

And so he had, for want of a better word, ascended, flying upwards for many hours – 7 in total – before coming to a jut of rock. And then he had known, like the rock beneath Infinity, that something lay above. He had flown upwards then, carefully heading straight up, and after 3 more hours had come to Azaphon – Heaven.

Adam had greeted him, when he landed at the edge of the city. And he had been quite casual, as the children of God in fact were by nature, simply saying 'Hi Jesus'. They had talked – the two of them for some time – and Logos had met the child of God, 21st of the Children, Jesus, the one who had largely composed the Revelation. Logos found it quite ironic that he was not, in fact, the first major Jesus of history.

Adam and Jesus had explained to Logos that Heaven was to be the battleground for his forces and Satan's in the upcoming war.

Logos had asked Adam and Jesus why they were so casual about the lives of countless people – did they not understand the gravity of the situation and the war with the darkness?

And then Adam had taken Logos aside and said some words – words like these. 'It is important to learn to laugh at ourselves. Not take life so seriously.'

Logos of course recognized the statement immediately. It was the principle of the Seraphim Torah of Eternity belonging to Gloryel, eighth-born of the female Seraphim of Eternity.

Since that time, the final war of Tribulation had begun. Recently, the 480,048 of the Male Seraphim of Eternity had been taken up to heaven, ready for the teaching of Almighty God and preparing for the great war with Satan of the Saruvim.

Jesus had travelled, then, to the Realm of Eternity, taking the remainder of the host of Christian Angels of that Realm, yet leaving behind the vast other remnant behind in Eternity. Those who had not come unto Christian faith.

Rophiel had been one of the Seraphim left behind in the Realm of Eternity, along with all his Muslim followers, whose numbers in Eternity had dwindled greatly, so many of them beset with the ways of sin and pleasure which now infected the children of Eternity.

This host of Angels – nearly one third of the Entire host of the Angels of Eternity – were the main group Satan of the Saruvim would draw to his side in the ultimate war. In the early years of the century he had already lead many of them astray and now, with the final temptation in heaven after the rapture, he would complete his work.

On Earth his work had been steadily progressing, satisfied that the final victory was at hand. His servants Alexander Darvanius II and Lucifer Darvanius, in whom his spirit inhabited, accomplished his objectives without cease. It was inevitable in the mind of the Darkest of the Lords of evil – he would be victorious over the Christ Child in his final vengeance towards he who had cast him out of his beloved home.

In the days before the rapture, three of Alexander Darvanius I children to his second wife, Keturah, had come into Christian faith. Their adopted brother, Alexander Darvanius II, had been the cause of this, bringing these three brothers 'Low', removing them from their positions on the business council of the world alliance. Yet the three of them had continued in their official capacity on the ruling business council of the Illuminati, which contained all 11 of Alexander Darvanius I children, those being the triplets Lucius, Lucifer and Lucas to Alexander Darvanius I first wife, and then the seven children to Keturah, named after the Archangels of God, as Alexander Darvanius I had been a fan of special Angelic writings in the property of the Vatican, and knew the exact names of the 7 archangels of God, naming his sons to Keturah after them.

And then the rapture had come, and Alexander Darvanius II had assured the world that the few million disappearances of diehard Pentecostal Christians was likely the result of renegade muslim extremists – a view generally held to, but not universally believed upon.

And then Alexander Darvanius II had acted – swiftly and strongly – promising the world its greatest moments and that the long awaited world unification with Israel was at hand. And for 3 and a half years the world believed this. And then, at the midpoint, the elect angels of God were raptured and war broke out in heaven. Instantly Satan called to his side all who had sworn oaths of allegiance to himself, and one third of the host of heaven, alongside 4 of the 12 stars of Glory - Saruviel, Bantriel, Cimbrel and Valandriel – came into allegiance with Satan, having long been tempted to join the power of darkness.

The war itself lasted about 7 Days. And for Satan the result was disastrous. They managed slaying a few thousand of the host of heaven, but they were completely decimated and routed, with only a handful of survivors. And then Michael had come forth, grabbed Satan by the throat, alongside the other traitors, and cast them down to earth.

Instantly Satan, reclaiming his identity as Damien Bradlock, contacted his protégés, and the wrath of God and the trial of tribulation began for mankind, with the blowing of the trumpets and the pouring of the vials of wrath.

Damien instructed Alexander to remove Michael, Gabriel and Raphael Darvanius from the council of world business. As Christians they were now the enemy and could not be trusted.

Michael Darvanius quickly left for Israel and took on the adopted name of Nathanael. Before leaving, Lucifer had cursed him to his face, with his henchman had water tortured him for hours before releasing him. And, struggling onwards, Michael had made it to Israel under the pseudonym of Nathanael Rosenberg.

Just prior to Alexander Darvanius II gathering his forces at Babylon, a final encounter took place. An encounter between the witch Lucy Smith and the dark Lord Saruviel himself, an encounter witnessed by many.

Chapter Four

7500 SC

And then the armies of the World Alliance had been gathered, and Alexander Darvanius II and Lucifer Darvanius gathered their host at Babylon and marched for Israel. The day of reckoning was at hand.

In Israel, Nathanael Rosenberg had joined David Rothchild's movement. When David's son had been raptured, David had been killed by an assassin of the darkness and been taken to heaven. He had been presented to the throne of Almighty God, been anointed by the spirit of God, and returned to mount Zion in Jerusalem for the gathering of the saints of the nations who turned to God during the final part of the tribulation.

The Day came, as all days do, and the beast had moved in to take control of Israel. Israel, as a people, came under the power of Alexander Darvanius II, and on the plains of Megiddo the covenant was signed, 45 days after Satan had been cast from heaven. And the world Alliance ruled Israel for 3 and half years.

And then, the final 7 days, and Michael the Archangel came forth from heaven with the heavenly host. And the host came to the plains of Megiddo, and the armies of the Beast came forth. The battle lasted 7 days, and on the last day, the Armies of the Beast were finally defeated. And, Nathanael Rosenberg, at the front of the fighting, found himself facing his brother Lucifer in the fighting. After a while, the smoke cleared, and around Lucifer stood the elect of God. Gabriel of eternity was present, as was Michael of eternity. David Rothchild – Ambriel – stood a little way off. And away from Lucifer, a number of yards away, Alexander Darvanius II stood, knowing his fate.

Jesus appeared, almost from out of nowhere, and speaking words, Gehenna appeared in front of them. A lake burning with sulphur and brimstone began forming, pushing itself out of the earth. It grew and grew till it was over a kilometre wide, at which point Jesus spoke again. And then Jesus looked at Nathanael, who had Lucifer in his hands, standing on the edge of the lake. And then Jesus spoke:

'What the hell are you waiting for Nathanael? Throw him in. Throw the bastard in.' Nathanael, formerly known by the name of Michael Darvanius, looked at Lucifer Darvanius his older brother cowering before him. He looked at the figure which had caused him so much pain and harm and, almost for a second, he thought he might have hated him. They had come from heaven, the host. They had defeated the forces of darkness. Lucifer Darvanius – the false prophet – was to pay. He was to be cast into Gehenna to suffer the wrath of Almighty God for the 'aeons of aeons' – millions of years – as Nathanael knew oh so well. He thought on that punishment. He thought on what his brother Lucifer would have to go through, the torment and agony he would endure. And right at that moment, Nathanael made a decision. Whatever else, he would not make the killing blow. He would leave that to the one who had judged him. 'I won't, Jesus. I won't throw him in.' Jesus looked at him before speaking. 'You soft hearted bastard, Nathanael. You know he deserves it. But, to hell with it. If you won't do it, I bloody will.' Jesus stepped forward and grabbed Lucifer. He took him to the edge of the Wall over the Gehenna valley, which was alive with sulphur and brimstone, and cast him in.

Lucifer fell the 20 metres and landed on the dirt. He screamed in pain, yelling that he had broken his leg. Jesus looked down at him, satisfied that his work was nearing completion.

Michael stepped over to the wall and looked down at Lucifer. He knew that he could not interfere. Logos had judged and so it must be.

Alexander Darvanius II stood at the edge of the wall, standing there, watching down on his brother, the just fallen Lucifer Darvanius, lying unconscious a few metres from him. He looked at the Logos. Jesus looked at him. And then Jesus came forth, grabbed Alexander Darvanius II by his neck, and threw him into Gehenna. And then, looking down, he knew it had come to pass. And then the millennium began.

It was later on, 30 years into the millennium, that David Rothchild's oldest brother, reached his conclusion. He reached his conclusion, and acted. Working with the only one he trusted on this agenda, his Canberra friend and head of Haven Noahide Fellowship, Daniel Daly, Daniel and Daniel stole into Gehenna and rescued Lucifer and Alexander from the power of the pits despair. And then they hid them in Haven, and the redemption of two of God's fallen children began.

After an Angel of God had come forth and cast Damien Bradlock into the eternal abyss, Jesus had rested from his works for a time. The dark days of the past were over with and he assured the world that peace would now reign. At the end, the dark one would be released again, but only as a test. For he would surely fail.

Yet, perhaps it is true that evil never dies, for during the millennium the cult of Satan emerged over time, and when the darkest lord was released, he emerged, gathered control over his own cult, and went forth in wrath to defeat his adversaries. For most, though, it was a non issue. They knew those who served Satan and largely ignored them. They left them to their fate and when the forces of evil of Damien Bradlock surrounded Jerusalem, the world was largely unconcerned resting on its faith in the prophecies of God.

8506 SC

The troops all looked on. Damien Bradlock had been wounded and was lying in the dust, next to the pit. He looked down into the pit, and looked over at Jesus. 'Not again,' he said to himself.

Jesus, sword in hand, slowly approached. He had made a telling blow – he had been ready. Victory was his. Thank God, victory was his. All that remained was the killing blow. To throw Damien Bradlock – the devil himself – into Gehenna for the final time. To rid himself of his last persecutor.

The time was now. If it had come down to what had just materialized, and Alexander Darvanius II knew the decision he had made all those years ago under the teaching of his mentors Daniel Rothchild and Daniel Daly of Haven Noahide Fellowship had to be acted upon. And he knew what he had to do. Stepping forward from his position in the Armies of Jesus, having been disguised as one of their officers, Alexander spoke up. 'Jesus. My turn.' Jesus looked over at Alexander, a slight grin on his face. 'Alexander. Mmm. I had wondered what had happened to you.' 'No swords, Yeshua.' Said Alexander, throwing away his sword. 'This time, it is the old fashioned way.' 'As you wish,' said Jesus, throwing away his sword.

The two children of Destiny looked at each other, and started circling. Every onlooker was tensed. Mary of Magdalene – the Memra of Eternity – who had come forth to look upon the fate of Satan, looked on at her husband and silently prayed to her God. There was, within her Lord, a streak of vengeance. He was the Lamb of God, and could be ever so gentle. But he was also a Lion from the tribe of Judah – and when his wrath arose – and when the pride of his heritage spoke – he was the most fearsome of opponents. She silently pitied Alexander. He, like Damien Bradlock, would most likely now also be cast into Gehenna. That much seemed inevitable.

Alexander moved in. 'Strike hard,' he thought to himself. Approaching, he knew Jesus was ready, but knew of the most basic of tactics which should work – a simple grapple with a number of quick punches. He tackled Jesus, who wriggled, but he managed a couple of blows to his side, and one to his head. Jesus likewise managed a blow to Alexander's head, before the two separated.

They circled again. 'That had been alright,' Alexander thought to himself. He had received a blow, but had perhaps had done more damage. And his opponent would have likely been still a little tired from his encounter with Damien.

Jesus looked at Alexander and grinned a little. They were both about the same in stature, but he felt that perhaps, just perhaps, he would have the greater endurance. That he would outlast his opponent. Given that as a factor, he decided to repay Alexander and follow his own tactic. He moved in, grabbed his opponent, and punched about three times to his side. Alexander managed a minor blow before the two separated.

Getting to their feets, each of them was starting to breathe a little heavily. Jesus thought on one of his most basic but devastating attacks– full on hardcore. He strode forward and grabbed Alexander by the collar and belted him three times right in the face. Alexander pulled away, and clutched his nose. Blood was starting to pour. Jesus looked on, satisfied that he was now in the lead. They circled once more, and Jesus moved in again, repeating the dose. He managed four blows, before Alexander managed to scramble away. Alexander stood a number of paces, clutching his nose. The blood was dripping profusely. Alexander rolled his eyes, belying his pain. Jesus knew he had him.

The Logos moved in. He would make these blows count. He again grabbed Alexander by the collar and was about to make his blows, when, suddenly, ever so quickly, Alexander snapped out of his grip, side-stepped Jesus, and grabbed his collar. One, two, three. Three flashes of lightning right into Jesus face.

Jesus stumbled back, dazed a little. Alexander looked on, grinning a little. Jesus wiped his nose which had started to bleed. He looked at his opponent, and spoke three brutal words. 'Watch it! Lad!' Alexander returned the slur with an ever so polite, but oh so sadistic grin. 'Heh, heh, heh,' replied the now confident Alexander.

The Father of Glory, in the way that he does, smiled. The conflict had reached what he had decided was a suitable conclusion. Both had made telling blows, but both had their pride intact. He spoke to Gabriel one word. 'Now.'

Gabriel stepped forward. 'Enough!', his voice resolute. Jesus and Alexander looked at each other, and looked at Gabriel. Gabriel continued, 'Father has spoken. This conflict ends – now. He is satisfied with the way events have transpired this day. The conflict is over. From this point on, diplomacy, and only diplomacy, will have the rule of law. So stand back, both of you. That is an order. And the host of heaven will ensure that you comply with that order.'

Alexander looked at Gabriel and then at his opponent. 'Perhaps that would be the wise thing to do,' he thought to himself. 'Perhaps, for once, he would listen to this Archangel.'

Jesus looked at Gabriel and nodded. As his father saw fit, so would he obey, as he eternally would do so.

Gabriel looked at both of them, and saw the conformity with his words on their faces. He thought then to himself that his Father was wise in his timing. The conflict had reached a suitable culmination. And now, in a sense, the real work began. The work of peace which they all sought – all of them, each in their own way.

The blow was sudden. The cut to the neck swift and sure. He had not detected him. He had forgotten him totally. Seemingly deemed irrelevant and harmless. Yet when Samael had cut off Jesus' head, his vengeance had been complete. And satisfaction – a grim and quiet satisfaction – returned.

'You dickhead.' Logos looked at Michael, Seraphim of Infinity. He looked at him, and did not try to respond. He looked at him, and got the point. He finally, after countless millennia of ultimate arrogance, got the fucking point. 'Yeh, well, Jesus. You deserved it. Who the fuck do you think you are? God? Huh? Huh? Huh?' he said, shoving his arrogant older brother. The lamb conceded then. He conceded that, yes, he had been a dickhead. A complete and utter fucking dickhead. And the dickhead that he was had never seen it coming. The son of the Almighty God had never seen it coming. So he sat there, in his cell in the golden city, housing a toilet, a pump with water, 7 months supply of food, his brother Michael, and fuck all else. He looked up at his father in heaven, and got the point. He got the fucking point.

And, as things come to an end, and new beginnings take place, the resurrection came to be. The millennium ended, in the most unexpected way. A way which, perhaps, answered questions for so many people about the true nature of their God and Father.

While Jesus spent his 7 months in his cell in the Golden city, Archangel Michael of the Realm of Eternity oversaw the resurrection of mankind who had died and the angelic beings who had died and those who had lived until the end of the millennium. The church – the New Jerusalem – Kalon the holy city, home to the ecclesia - came to rest as the new summit to Zion, spiritually located beneath Zaphon of the Realm of Eternity, the closest realm to Earth. Thus, as had been its purpose for many millennia since its inception, becoming the main doorway through which mankind entered into the heavenly realms.

Jesus had been humbled. The Logos – the Word of God – had been humbled by his Father, defeated at the moment of his greatest victory. Yet, in time, he learned the lesson – the fundamental lesson on the nature of the idol – that he now knew he needed to know.

For those 7 months, Seraphim Michael of Eternity resided in Kalon. Mankind, now with the firsthand knowledge of the reality of God's presence amongst them, did, strangely enough, what had been hoped for by so many, and repented of much of its evil ways. For the first time in mankind's history, on a global scale, knowledge of the spiritual realm and God's existence seemed proven and undeniable. While some diehards maintained an alien invasion, a not unpopular theory, the majority had generally conceded on the issue of religious truth and the existence of God. With Kalon shining above Zion night and day, held in place, seemingly only by the power of the spirit of God, nearly every scientist had conceded that spiritual power of some sort must be at work, as no other explanation seemed plausible. And thus, as it was written, God's home came to be with mankind, and God himself dwelt again with the children of men.

The nations healed. Hope became reborn. Michael judged mankind and, as was true in the nature of his beloved son, exercised grace and mercy in harmony with the necessary rebukes when and were called for.

And people, seemingly, for the first time in oh so long, were again happy. Joy resided in Jerusalem – old and new. People found peace with God. And life, for so many, found that meaning, that elusive meaning, which seemed now, what they had been searching for all along.

And life, as life does, continued on. It charted its merry way into the unknown future. Lives were led. Dreams were pursued. Hearts were broken, and healed. And what it is all about, anyway, continued on as it steadily and eternally had done so.

It was later on, a few year later, that Jesus was sitting in Azion in his room, Samael opposite him, both of them looking down at the chess set before them, ready to continue a long postponed game. The Apostle Paul was sitting near them, and after a while, having been reading 1 Corinthians, spoke up.

'If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give away all my possessions, and if I hand over my body so that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.'

'Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.'

'Love never fails.'

'But as for prophecies, they will fail…..'

Paul left off speaking then, looked at Logos and Samael briefly, and stood and left the room.

Samael and Logos continued staring at the chess set, both studying intently. Eventually Samael spoke up.

'I do remember that verse – 'They will fail.' I do remember that.'

Logos looked at the chess set for a while, and then finally looked up at Samael. And then he grinned.

THE END

( I hope you enjoyed the saga – it was a hell of a ride )


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